Halo: Christmas Evolved
by WhereIsTheCuprite
Summary: Yes, Virginia......there IS a Sparta Claus.
1. Halo: Christmas Evolved

HALO: CHRISTMAS EVOLVED

Halo, characters not made up by the author, and most of the things that include the words "Halo", "Bungie", and "Master Chief" are registered trademarks or trademarks of the Microsoft Corporation. Personalities and designs of characters you've never heard of, don't care about, or wouldn't imagine belong to 1000Bolsheviks. On a different note, it might help to familiarize yourself with the characters if you haven't read the first account of the adventures on Halo in "Halo: Belligerence Involved". If not, this would make WAY less sense than it already does.

'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the galaxy, every sentient life form on the ring world known as Halo was stirring, the infinite void of Space throbbing with glee.

The humans had prepared their base to remind them of home and how good the holidays felt. The Christian churches finally realized five hundred years into the future that "Christmas" traditions actually were derived from pagan holidays, so they moved it to the end of September to defy the "heathens". The UNSC in Alpha Base were sprucing up their living spaces with some Christmas, but mostly atheist decorations. Atheist decorations consist of random shapes or other whatnot that the soldiers decided to cut out of construction paper and then encrypted with the words "We don't need your God!" or "Jesus hates soldiers!"

Surprisingly, the Covenant celebrated their most important holiday in the same month as Christian humans do. Yes, it's that time of year again……time for……Rutluk! Rutluk is the celebration of the Forerunners and their ability to help shape the Covenant into what they are today.

The Flood, seeing as they are ruled by Fascists, are forced to be Christian seeing as that's what Commander Ivan's host body was and he has a nasty habit of proposing new laws and regulations behind Commander Jared's back. The dictators strongly believed that God hated everybody but the Flood. They're obviously not going to be part of the Covenant religion because then they'd have to worship the Forerunners, the very beings who locked them in the ring prisons. However, the Flood base wasn't as brightly decorated as the other bases or ships because Ivan and Jared would rather be spending the Flood's tax money on themselves than festivities for others.

"How's this look, Commander?"

"Mmm……move it over to the left a little, no, in that corner there."

"Any better?"

"……A _little _more to the right."

"……Now?"

"No, more to the left again."

"……Any better?"

"Why don't you try in the far corner over there?"

"……H-How's _this_, mein Führer?"

"……Mmm, never mind, it was fine back where you had it in the first place," Commander Ivan decided with a shrug as an exhausted member of his dreaded Schützstaffeln finally got a chance to put down the Christmas tree.

"Commander Ivan, sir!" he heard as he turned around to acknowledge the soldier. One of the artists from Ringsminister Carl Speekeasie's Propaganda Office raised his left arm in a salute and Ivan nodded in response. "I've just now finished the seasonal posters! Straight from Ringsminister Speekeasie," he reported, holding up a long piece of paper with an image of both Commanders Ivan and Jared handing out gifts to various Flood forms, all of the boxes marked with either "freedom from oppression" or "galactic revenge".

"Ooh, I love it! But you need to make _me_ more handsome and Jared uglier," he answered, handing the poster back to the artist as he was approached by another soldier. Saluting once more, the artist moved on.

"Sieg Flood! I've just received a report from Ringsmarschal Hindenburg!" an SS bodyguard said officially.

"You don't say. What's his status?"

"He's having difficulty hanging up the lights on the second level!"

"He is? Why?!" Commander Ivan demanded.

Ringsmarschal Hindenburg grumbled to himself as he stood on top of a ladder and tried vigorously to hang vibrant Christmas lights. Officer Nuremberg was holding the ladder steady and Captain Anderson stood a few feet away, criticizing his superior's abilities.

"They're not straight……" Anderson commented dryly.

"Whaddaya mean 'they're not straight'?!" Hindenburg demanded.

"I mean _exactly_ what I said. Commander Ivan won't be happy when he sees crooked lights."

"……Isn't that the point?" Nuremberg asked.

"These lights aren't the _only_ things that aren't straight around here……" Hindenburg chuckled.

"_I_ think Hindenburg's doing a bang-up job!" Nuremberg said cheerfully.

"Suck up," Anderson said.

"Come on now, Anderson. _That's_ not the way to show your holiday spirit! Frankly, it appears to be lacking a little," Nuremberg chided.

"Yeah Anderson, 'show some holiday spirit'," Hindenburg mocked with a chuckle as he nearly fell off the ladder trying to reach a far part on the ledge.

"He _better_, if he wants to get any presents this year. If I recall correctly, _you_ didn't get any last year. I'm guessing it was on account of the fact that you called Private Sampson the 'b' word, I even think you put an 'f' word and a 'c' word in front of it. There was also a 'licking' after the 'c' word and that's just gah-rowss!" Nuremberg added.

"_None_ of us got presents last year, remember? If I recall correctly, it's because 'Santa Claus' doesn't exist," Anderson sneered.

Nuremberg gasped. "_Don't_ say things like that! The _only_ reason he couldn't make it to Halo is because the Shaw-Fujikawa light engine on his sleigh was malfunctioning and he couldn't make outer space trips."

"_I_ didn't get any presents either," Hindenburg said.

"That's because you like to show your dingle to people and _everyone_ knows Santa _doesn't_ give gifts to dingle show-ers," Nuremberg said haughtily, placing one hand on a hip.

"Which reminds me, I don't think _you've_ seen it yet," Hindenburg said.

Nuremberg immediately let go of the ladder and covered his eyes. "No, no, no! We're not in a relationship, you can't!"

"C'mon, it's magnificent," Hindenburg pressured. Soon after he spoke, he lost his balance again, Nuremberg uncovering his eyes just in time to get a hold on the ladder once more.

"Careful, Nuremberg, you wouldn't want Harriet Tubbyman to fall off," Anderson teased.

"Shut yer face, Anderson! I'm _not _fat, I'm _muscular_," Hindenburg growled.

"Then how do you explain that spare tire? I sure hope that's in case you get a flat on the battlefield."

"_T_._J_……it's like a spare tire for a _bicycle_, Walter," Nuremberg corrected.

"More like a Warthog……" Anderson said to himself.

"Both of you better curb your tongues or I'll snap you over my knee like twigs."

"Oh, and, _it's_ not anything to behold. You're not missing anything, Nuremburg," Anderson commented.

"When did I ever flash _you_?" Hindenburg snapped.

"You'd be hard-pressed to find a soldier who _hasn't_ seen your dick."

"Oh yeah, I almost fergot," Hindenburg said with a chuckle. "How do they look _now_?"

"……Still not straight," Anderson said with a devilish smile as he cocked his head to the right.

"Not straight my ass! They're perfect!"

"Here, I'll take a look," Nuremberg said, backing away from the ladder and standing next to Anderson. He turned his head roughly one hundred degrees to the left, taking full advantage of his Flood superpowers, and observed the lights. "_I_ think they look beautiful, Walter."

"Suck up," Hindenburg muttered, climbing down off of the ladder.

"Ringsmarschal Hindenburg, Heil Jared!" Officer Kristallnacht said, saluting, as he came to a halt behind the ladder. Returning the salute, Hindenburg addressed him.

"Heil Ivan. Whaddaya want, Night of Broken Glass?"

"Commander Jared wishes to see us at once."

"Does he want to see _me_?" Anderson asked the other soldier.

"Whatever, Captain."

"Can I come with?" Nuremberg inquired.

"Three's a crowd, Nuremberg," the other Flood said.

"You can't talk to me like that! I'm an SS officer!"

"We're the same rank, Nuremberg, and I'm bigger than you. I can talk to you however I want."

"Oh, right! Ha! I knew that," he said playfully.

"Hey, why are those lights crooked?" Kristallnacht asked.

"Told you," Anderson said quickly.

"God damn! Why is everyone so damn critical?!" Hindenburg roared. "I oughta rip you outta your host body's chest!"

"Take a heart pill, Ringsmarschal. God forbid you get too overworked and have an attack, you know, because you're so fat."

"If I hear _one more_ 'fat joke' from _any one_ of you—" Hindenburg said, rolling up a single sleeve of his uniform.

"You know, I always wondered, how can you see? You don't have eyes," Anderson inquired.

"What do you think _these_ are actually for? To attract mates?" Kristallnacht answered with a bit of frustration as he clutched his tendrils in one hand.

"The longer the better," Hindenburg snickered.

"And technically, I _do_ have eyes……they just happen to be on the head hanging down my back and not functioning."

"Wow, that must be tough," Nuremberg commented.

"It's not that big of a deal, Nuremberger."

"You're a strong-willed woman."

"……Yeah, I know. Let's not waste any more time. I don't want to keep our Führer waiting," Kristallnacht said, folding the ladder and propping it in a corner.

They arrived back at the Commander's quarters a short while later. Commander Jared was still busy with other SS officers and official war personnel, but he dismissed the other soldiers and focused on the entering party.

"Ah, Officer Kristallnacht and crompany. Have you frinished setting up the decrorations in the bass yet?"

"Bass? What the hell?" Hindenburg whispered to Anderson.

"We just finished hanging up the lights, your Excellency," Kristallnacht said, putting his arm down.

"Wonderfrul—"

"—_Actually_, _I_ set up the lights. The others just stood around and made rudimentary remarks," Hindenburg pointed out.

"And you did a poor job, might I add," Anderson said.

"I held the ladder!" Nuremberg said excitedly, raising his hand.

"Well, I supprose it droesn't matter. You'll be traking them drown in a few days. Anyway, that's not why I cralled on you. Since it's growing trew be Christmras trewmorrow, I manraged trew find a 1930s sixtreen srillender Mercredes Brenz for Ivan. We all know how bradly he's wanted one."

"Yes, sir?" Kristallnacht said.

"……No, I dridn't mean your name, I meant that……nevermrind."

All of the Floods except Kristallnacht tried to hold in their laughter in various ways.

"Your name's Bradley?" Nuremberg inquired.

"Yep……what'd you think it was?"

"Um, well……I-I just called you 'Kristallnacht' all the time," Nuremberg answered.

"……Yes……well, I would vary mruch like trew give it trew him early," Commander Jared concluded. "You nreed trew keep him preorqupied so he droesn't grow into the artrillery bay. I know he'll want trew, sreeing as we drew a review of our artrillery this trime each mronth. I want trew surpreese him there. I thrink it'll be rather pleasrent."

"Wait, _where's_ he going to go?" Hindenburg said, making it clear he was doing everything Floodly possible to stop from laughing.

"……If you weren't so high-ranking……" Commander Jared said, stalking off as he gestured for Kristallnacht only to follow him.

"What are we gonna do to distract him?" Nuremberg asked with a shrug.

"That shouldn't be too hard," Hindenburg remarked with a chuckle as they saw the Commander approaching them.

"Good day, gentlemen," Ivan said as the three saluted. "I was just about to carry out with my monthly artillery overview. Won't you join me?" he asked politely, making for the automatic side door Jared left through moments ago.

Hindenburg and Anderson stepped in front of him.

"Commander, have you been working out more? You look _extraordinarily_ sexy today," Anderson commented, taking his commanding officer's arm and stroking his bicep.

"What's _that _supposed to mean? I _don't_ look attractive any other day?" he asked coldly.

"No, mein Führer, you look ravishing _every_ day!" Anderson immediately corrected.

"Hmph……well, if you _must_ know, I _have_ been focusing on my physical appearance of late," he answered. Jerking his arm out of the Captain's hands, he tried to continue on, but was stopped by Hindenburg.

"Commander, I know that it's almost Christmas and I figured that you might want your gift from _me_ a little early," he said.

"Oh, you did, did you? Well, you've certainly proved to be an excellent shopper in the past. That's one of the reasons why you're Ringsmarschal," he said, placing both hands on his broad shoulders.

"If you have—" Hindenburg began, lowering his voice to a whisper as he leaned in closer, holding onto his commanding officer's hips.

"—You _know_ I have all of that in my quarters, Walter, and I see you every other night. I'm eager to see what you'll do for the holidays," Ivan said, answering in an equally hushed tone so the others wouldn't hear. He then dismissed Hindenburg and tried again to exit. This time, Nuremberg stood in front of him.

"What's the meaning of this?" Ivan demanded. Nuremberg threw his arms around the Commander and issued him a large hug.

"You're the best Commander in the universe!" he said.

"Indeed. There are no falsities there. You know, _you_ still have yet to prove that _you're_ a better 'secretary' than Mess was," Ivan said, placing his hands on Nuremberg's hips.

"Excuse me, sir?" he asked.

The automatic side door then opened and Officer Kristallnacht stuck his head in. "Ready," he said, then disappeared.

"Shouldn't you be heading down to the artillery storage and carrying out your overview?" Hindenburg asked, standing by the door and holding one arm out in front of him.

"……Yes, I was _about_ to, but you three are acting strange. Stranger than usual, I mean," he commented, exiting the quarters with the others.

With Officer Kristallnacht leading the way, they headed down a few corridors until they came to their destination.

"Now……before you carry out with your inspection, Commander, we have something of a surprise for you," Kristallnacht advised.

"Oh really? Did you guys _finally_ manage to rotate the tires on the LRVs like I asked you……a _month_ ago?" he inquired glumly.

"We had Private Stanley and a few others take care of that, fear not. Trust me, it's something _better_."

"Close your eyes," Hindenburg said, placing both of his gloved hands over his Commander's eyes.

"Very well, I hope this doesn't waste my time," Ivan said as he allowed Anderson and Nuremberg to lead him into the storage area.

The automatic doors slid open to reveal a massive chamber filled with legions of stolen or found weapons including twelve Scorpion tanks, at least four dozen Warthogs, eight Wraith tanks, two dozen Ghosts, and clusters of Shade and chain-gun turrets.

"Are we there _yet_?" Ivan asked, growing ever more excited.

"Almost," Anderson said.

"This is exciting! Did you steal another Longsword or something?" the Commander continued to guess. "Or is it that one PFC I told you I wanted from that Pelican that escaped when we raided the Covenant cruiser?"

"Do you want to spoil your surprise, mein Führer?" Nuremberg asked.

"Yes," Ivan said devilishly. They came to a halt.

"Ready……now!" Hindenburg said, removing his hands from Ivan's eyes. Everyone looked confused as they all stared up at a stationary Pelican.

"Ovrer one more!" Jared said to them from one machine over. Ringsminister Speekeasie had joined him and was standing to his right.

"Oh," Hindenburg said as he re-covered Ivan's eyes and they shuffled over to Jared's position.

"_Now_?" Ivan asked, sounding a little frustrated.

"All right……Ivan?" Jared said.

"Yes, Jared."

"Now, I know Christmras is croming up, brut I have a little srurprise that I just _crouldn't_ wait trew give trew you. I sprent _all_ of this mronth looking……" he said, tempting the other dictator.

Ivan giggled like a nancy as his excitement peaked.

"Ready……one, trew, three!" Jared counted down loudly. On three, Hindenburg removed his hands from Ivan's eyes and the dictator gasped in utter joy. Sitting right in front of him, nestled among the war machines and harbingers of destruction, stood one of his dreams ever since he had been a ruthless tyrant……a sixteen cylinder 1938 Mercedes Benz. Breaking free of the loving grip Anderson and Nuremberg had on his arms, he gingerly approached the vehicle, mouth agape with wonder. He inspected every last inch of the car, running a gloved hand along the exterior, polishing off a few smudges on the silver hubcaps with his elbow, and popping the hood for further inspection, marveling at the genius of the long since outdated engine.

"It's in one hundred precent working crondition, has a five year warrentry, and I evren added these," Jared said as he flicked one of the two small Flood flags he had fastened on either side of the hood.

"My God……this is……this is……this is the greatest gift I have ever received!" Ivan declared. Jared and Kristallnacht slipped each other a low-five.

"Where in the galaxy did you find such a marvel?!"

"Well, I sprent an exhaustringly long amrount of trime looking on websites threwrout the galaxry, and I frinally fround one seller on a human colonry. I also had trew drew some thrings I'm not trew proud of," Jared explained.

"Ooh, like _what_?" Ivan asked, sounding enticed.

"I traded my shrotgrun for it, along with srome other of my belongrings," he answered with a shrug.

"Jared! Your _shotgun_?! You traded _that_ for _this_?"

"Yeah……the one with the dragron and the naked ladry prainted on it."

"But, but that was your favourite weapon, even though it _was_ rather vulgar."

"I know, I know……brut you wanted one, and, like I sraid, I've never even heard of one in existrence, so I drid whatever I crould trew get it."

"Aw……that's one of the sweetest things anyone has even done for me! Thank you so very much," he said, giving Commander Jared an immense hug. Jared returned it gratefully.

"Your welcrome."

"……Now, to celebrate, why don't we take this bad boy out for a spin?" Commander Ivan inquired. His request was answered with a cheer and shouts from his staff. All of them managed to pile into the Benz, Speekeasie taking his designated position as driver. He pulled out of the chamber, through an underground corridor, and back into the interior that led to the Library.

Elites, Grunts, Jackals, and Hunters all alike were excited for their holiday and were also busy erecting elaborate décor around the _Rice Cakes and Jesus Shoes_, the cruiser which had replaced _Truth and Reconciliation _due to Flood infection. Most of the decorations were difficult hieroglyphs and other symbols sporting the colours "robin's egg blue" or "bleeding Sangheili purple." All was serene and joyous as the troops anxiously waited for the next day, the twenty-sixth, the national day of Rutluk. All except for one Elite in particular. One Elite by the name of Riley 'Bodensee: Slacker extraordinaire! Dropping his faith in the Covenant religion and identifying himself as "humantalogist", or honouring the religions of the humans, to see which one he liked best, he had finished observing Ramadan and now had his Christmas decorations displayed for the disgruntled Elites to enjoy. He was sitting in the rookie Elite quarters in a chair and reading "The Night Before Christmas" aloud to his close and only friends on the ship to better educate them about life……

"—And I heard him exclaim, e're he rode through the night, Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!" Riley read with much emphasis as he shut the heavy leather-bound Christmas tome. "Boy, doesn't that make you feel _inspired_? Ooh, I can feel my cockles tingling with holiday spirit as we speak!"

"Unfortunately, _inspired_ is something I'm not feeling right about now," the Grunt named Peter said unenthusiastically. "I didn't really understand the story."

"Well, Peter, your intellect and appreciation for cultures other than your own aren't as vast as mine," Riley said, delivering his friend some obnoxious medium speed machine-gun laughter.

"Yeah, um……wot the bloody hell is a reindeer? And wot's a cockle?" Hanjk the Jackal inquired.

"'M sorry man, but, I didn't really git da story eitha. I mean, don't git me wrong or nuthin', y'all a good reada. You should be da person who like, reads to da chilluns at da libury," James Robinson Gurru, the terribly stereotyped Hunter, added.

"Oh, James, I never thought a very large brain could fit in your miniscule cranium," Riley said, patting him on the shoulder.

"'Ey! Watch it nigga!" he answered, recoiling.

"Hey! _Don'_t say the 'n' word! It's Christmas and Santa is watching!" Riley said, pointing a very accusing finger as he opened his second "TerroriZOR" forty ounce. "A reindeer looks like this, Hanjk," he said as he handed him the book. "And a cockle is a synonym for spirit."

"Ahm still confused," Hanjk said tossing Riley back the book.

"Shouldn't you be celebrating Rutluk? I mean, don't you get in trouble with the Prophet for not having anything glorifying the Forerunners up?" Peter axed.

"Rutluk Schmutluk! I stopped caring about Covenant holidays _years_ ago."

"……You astound me," Peter concluded.

"Hey, thanks! Hm……you know, this place really needs some more holiday spirit," Riley suggested, observing the rookie Elite sleeping quarters. "Everything is so……so……blurple."

"Is so _what_?" Peter asked.

"Yeah, you know, blurple. Everything around here is either blue or purple. Blue or purple, blue purple, blue or friggin' purple. Okay, maybe there's an occasional _gray_ or something, but basically it's the same. There needs to be red and green! Maybe some gold or silver too! If Burl Ives could see this place now, he would be crying……CRYING!" Riley said.

"Well, you know, technically speaking……this place _is_ decorated with this so called 'holiday spirit'. I see _you've_ really gotten into it," Peter said, taking account of the decorations among Riley's things. His cot had been dressed with multi-coloured lights, his Jerry Seinfeld cardboard-cutout was wearing a Santa hat, and there was a large snowman luminary sitting by his bedside module as well as a foil sign that said "Merry Christmas!" that he had rigged above his bed. "Doesn't anyone ever get annoyed with it?"

"Meh, sometimes, but I couldn't give a rodent's fanny what anyone thinks of me and my hobbies," Riley said with a shrug and machine-gun laughter. "Oh! I almost forgot!" he exclaimed, reaching over to his bedside module and grabbing a pen and small holo-pad. "What do you guys want for Christmas?"

"What do we _want_?" Peter questioned.

"What, is there an echo in here? Of course! You're supposed to buy all of your friends gifts for Christmas and send them obnoxious or remotely funny cards. I've already sent mine out. You should have got them today. Hee, I made them myself so _you've got to know_ that they're gonna be _hilarious_!"

"Hey, Riley!" he heard someone bellow from the entrance to the sleeping quarters.

"Mhm?" he answered, looking over to see who it was.

"I received your card! It was _so_ ridiculous! It was _not_ funny at all! And what in the name of the Forerunners is a 'Christmas'_ anyway_?! Where is your Rutluk stuff?!" It was another blue-armoured Elite, one named Renza 'Anokee.

Riley shook his head and sighed in admiration. "Oh, Renza, he makes me cry, then laugh, then crylaugh."

"I don't really want to know how that sounds……but yeah, that guy's kinda annoying. I remember this one time my friend told me about how he got really plastered one night and tried to make intercourse with one of his methane tanks," Peter agreed.

"Goodness……anyway, what do you guys want?"

"They give gifts loike Rutluk? Ya know, ahm beginin' ta think tha 'umans stole tha 'oliday ideer from us!" Hanjk exclaimed.

"Shut up, Hanjk, no one cares about your opinion," Peter said.

"Are ya sayin' ya wanta scrap wi'me roight now, gas-sucka?!" he challenged, standing up and assuming a boxing position.

"Bring it on, stupid Jackal!"

"Hey! What did I tell you two about racial slurs?!" Riley scolded.

"……Sorry," they both apologized.

"Well, ah need a new hat," James said, taking the black one with multicoloured old English "D's" off of his head and examining it. "Course, I could use a bitch too," he chuckled as he high-fived Hanjk.

"I thought the Lekgolo were an all-male race as well," Riley asked.

"Oh, yeah, right, I furgot," James said.

"Isn't like, _everyone's_ race uno-gendered?" Riley inquired.

"Not mine," Peter corrected.

"Or moine," Hanjk added.

"Whatever, you guys are annoying anyway……"

"'Ey! I'd shut ya trap or 'al 'it ya so 'ard, ya mum will feel it in tha mornin'!"

"_I don't have a mom_,_ remember_?! I have _two_ _dads_, like _all_ Sangheili, and I don't know where _either of them are_! Didn't we just discuss this like, a few weeks ago?" he said angrily.

"Oh, roight……damn."

"Don't worry, Hanjk. He just cross cuz he can't choose batween 'Canundrum' 'n 'Zamamee."

"I _told_ you! I'm over the 'Zamamee thing."

"Riley 'n 'Zamamee sittin' inna tree—" James chided.

"—Until 'Canundrum' comes by 'n blasts 'is arse to tha fah reaches of tha Orion Belt," Hanjk added, nudging James.

"C'mon, brotha, Zuka'd totally kick his ass. Dat guy's a beast," James said.

"Are ya jokin' me?! 'Canundrum'd' beat tha shit outta anyone 'oo crosses 'is path! 'Ees a stealth Sankalee!" Hanjk argued.

"Yeah, but 'Zamamee's Spec Ops, 'ees almos' suicidal, _he'd_ win!"

"Relax, guys. Even though they're different positions, they're on the same rank level," Peter explained.

Both combatants kept quiet.

"Well, I don't know what's going on anymore. I mean, I like him, a lot…..but I like 'Zamamee too…..."

"Dincha notice tha fact that 'e only talked ta _you_?"

"……I know. But, like I said—"

"—Ya still like 'Zamamee."

"……Yeah……"

"Sheesh Rye, you're quite the hot topic," Peter finished.

"……Do you want anything or not?" Riley said quietly and aggressively.

"Hm……I know! One of those filters for your plasma pistol that makes it turn different colours, I've always wanted one of those. And……and a bunch of Johnny Cash stickers for my methane tanks."

"Ew, no, Johnny Cash is terrible. You can get those on your own."

"You _did_ ask me what I wanted—"

"—I did."

"_And_ you're the only one who knows how to get human things—"

"—This is true. All right! But don't say I never do anything for you. How about you, Hanjkerchief? What do you want 'Santa's little helper' to get for you?"

"I think ah need a new tie. Me old ones gittin' a lit-el worn out," Hanjk said, observing his red and black striped one closely as it hung from his neck.

"Yeah, it _is_ getting a little faded, isn't it?"

"'Sgot a few stains on it too."

"Well, do you have any preference as to what it looks like?"

"No, no not really. Just sommat with red, I loike red. But none a' that modern art shit ya see everywhere. It's bloody awful 'n gives me a 'eadache!"

"I'll make a note of it," Riley said, furiously scribbling it down on his pad. "Well boys, it's been fun, but I gotta go ask everyone else what they want. You guys _are_ going to come to my party tonight, _yes_?"

"Well, seeing as you've already answered for us and you _are_ still a Sangheili, sure, what the hell," Peter agreed.

"_Oh yeah_! Now I just gotta find some more friends," Riley said graced them with his annoying laugh.

"Okay, see you later."

"Bye guys!"

The three-some exited the sleeping quarters shortly after. Riley pounced from his chair to his hover-cot and groped around underneath it until he found his radio. "Better use my 'Ship Master' voice," he said to himself as he removed his horn-rimmed glasses. Setting the frequency, he pushed a button and began to speak into it. "Afternoon Delight, this is Moon Over Parma, Afternoon Delight, do you read?" he said, lowering his voice to sound more masculine. There was a moment of static and then he heard commotion.

"Uh, that's a big ten-four, M.O.P., we read you loud and clear, over," he heard the response.

Quickly changing his voice back to normal, Riley put his glasses back in place and spoke casually.

"Hey Patrick, what's new?"

"Not too much……how about you?"

"……Are you with Stanley?"

"Yep. We were just er……hangin' out."

"Riiiiiight. So, are you two doin' anything later?"

"Nope. Our schedule is pretty slow today. We just have to find a way to get out of attending Commander Ivan's 'DEATHember Address'."

"Wanna hook up later? Around, maybe……twenty units?"

"Sure! Where should we meet you?"

"Mmmmmm……how about by the first underground passage in the snow world, where I'm stationed at. I'm having a party later and the only way I can get you guys in the ship is if we sneak back in."

"Okay, sounds like a plan! We'll be there at twenty."

"Affirmative. Moon Over Parma out," Riley finished, lowering his voice again. He sighed deeply as he lay on his cot for a few seconds. Then, he quickly sprang off, grabbed up his pad and pen, and strode to the automatic doors crooning "Jingle Bell Rock".

It was like any other typical day for Riley. Every greeting given to his peers and every smile was violently turned down with a grunt of disproval or a shove. Despite all the hostility, Riley managed to stroll down the corridors of _Rice Cakes and Jesus Shoes_ with spirits aloft. He managed to stop another blue-armoured Elite not too long after he began questing.

"Hey, Tango!" he said stepping squarely in front of him.

"_Do not call me by my first name_," the other Elite demanded in a hushed tone, hoping no one had heard Riley, when it was quite difficult _not_ to.

"Okay fine! What do you want for Christmas, _'Moorlamee_?" Riley said, air-quoting the last name.

"What is a Christmas?" 'Moorlamee sneered.

"You _know_! The one holiday in which you get presents, sing songs, spend time with your alcoholic family, run up your credit card and electric bills, and all that other really commercialized, stressful flim-flam!" Riley said with a grin.

"You mean Rutluk."

"_No_! I mean _Christmas_."

"……So, let me get this straight. You are asking me what I want as a _gift_?" 'Moorlamee inquired, shifting his weight to his other hip.

"……Pretty much, yeah, I am."

"This holiday sounds like it is copying off of Rutluk."

"_No_. It's _not_ copying, _'Moorlamee_," Riley said, repeating the other Elite's last name in a mocking tone.

"……You are so full of it," 'Moorlamee said as he rolled his eyes and gently pushed Riley out of the way.

"No, no wait! Sureeusly! Tell me what you want and I'll get it for you!" Riley said, blocking the other Elite's way again. "Do you still play the bassoon?"

"……Sometimes……when I am bored……" 'Moorlamee said hesitantly, making sure no one was eavesdropping on their conversation.

"Don't be afraid to be yourself. 8nd g33k5 p4wn! Well, I'll find something, I've known you for a while. Happy Holidays!" Riley said as he side-stepped out of 'Moorlamee's way.

"Yeah, whatever……"

"—And hey! Double reeds baby!" Riley said with some of his signature laughter. "Okay, I've pretty much got Tango down. Hm……" he thought for a second, reviewing what little friends he thought he had, and when Riley thought, ninety percent of it was out loud. "Well, my gangstas already told me what they want, I've got the Prophet, and……oh! I should get Soha 'Fancypants something. After all, he _did_ save me from getting my head all cutted off," Riley shrugged. "Now……what do upperclassmen like? Golf carts, for one thing. Golf _clubs_, for another thing. Or maybe, maybe one of those portable grills that like, _lets you listen to music at the same time_! Nah, when does _he ever have time_ to listen to music? I'll keep pondering on that."

While scribbling down possible ideas, Riley accidentally bumped into a Major Elite donned with crimson armour.

"Watch where you are—oh……look who it is."

"Oh……hello _'Archeree_," Riley answered.

"Hello……_Riley_," Marvin 'Archeree was a long-time rival of Riley's, even though he tried to be nice to everyone, getting on smooth terms with Marvin was easier said than done. He was a tall, powerful Elite, but even so, he was complete jerk to everyone under his class _and_ rank. He boasted much more than he deserved, pushed around virtually everyone, and put on very fake airs.

"What are you up to now? Freak patrol?" he chuckled.

"……_For your information_, _I'm_ making a list of the gifts I plan to purchase for my friends, because even _I_ have _friends_, something that might seem _foreign to you_," Riley said haughtily.

"I would watch the attitude around a senior officer, _'Bodensee_."

"Well, if you're going to talk to me _that_ way, I won't get you a present for Christmas, when I _was_ in fact, going to."

"What is a Christmas? One of your made-up holidays?"

"It's a human holiday and it's _not_ made up! It dates back several thousands of years," Riley said with a harsh nod.

"How come you cannot be normal for once and celebrate Rutluk like the rest of us? The humans are the _enemy_. I hate Covenant who disrespect the Forerunner's noble work."

"_I_ hate the fact that _you're_ so close-minded and don't have any tolerance or room to learn," Riley retorted.

"……Which reminds me, I have a Rutluk present for _you_," Marvin said sarcastically.

"……You do? Oooh, oooh, gimme a hint, gimme a hint!"

Marvin snorted and ripped Riley's nerdy, horn-rimmed spectacles off of his face.

"My spectacles! I'm blind without them! Ah! Sweet Georgia Brown!" he hollered, falling to his knees and feeling around for them. Riley is actually far-sighted, so he could see fine. He's just desperate for attention.

Marvin glared at Riley harder and broke them in half. He placed them back in his hand after yanking Riley to his feet.

"Happy _Christmas_," he said spitefully as he roughly shoved Riley out of his way and continued down the hall. Riley looked down at his glasses mournfully. He felt them jerk out of his hand again. He looked up in a panic.

"What are you—yay!" he said as he saw Special Operatives officer Zuka 'Zamamee. He taped them together in the middle.

"Viola," he said as he tore the piece off of the roll and handed them back to Riley.

"Aw, _you_!" Riley said as he grabbed his friend in a massive hug.

"……Yep," he answered, returning the favour. "Hey, 'Archeree!" he hollered down the hall to Marvin, who was careful to try and sneak away when his superior approached.

"Yes, Officer 'Zamamee?" Marvin responded immediately, obediently.

"What do you think you were doing to Officer 'Bodensee here a moment ago?"

"I was merely, he was—"

"—Listen to me carefully, _very_ carefully……you, from this moment on, have _no right_ to degrade or harm Officer 'Bodensee in any way, shape, or form. Do I make myself _entirely_ clear?" he threatened.

"…..Y-Yes sir, but why must I—"

"—Do you _seriously_ harbour the _nerve_ to talk back to one of the Prophet's holy assassins?" 'Zamamee pressed on.

"……Er, no, Excellency."

"That's what I thought. Now, get out of my sight, junior!" he barked, pointing down the hall. Marvin lowered his eyes and sauntered off.

"Wow……thanks!" Riley said.

"He shouldn't give you trouble any more. If he does, let me know," Zuka said.

"Thanks a lot. Hey, um, what do rich Sangs like?"

"Money……themselves," Zuka answered solemnly.

"Hm……I don't think I could give 'Rolamee those things. How about something I can afford?"

"……'Rolamee is dead, Riley," 'Zamamee said hesitantly.

"Really?! What happened?"

"Er……please don't make me explain," the SpecOps officer answered, recalling his second visit with the Prophet of Filibusting.

"Oh, okay, I won't. So……what's new?" Riley asked bashfully.

"Nothin' much. Just the usual……order Unggoy to do this, order Kig-Yar to do that, go on an assassination mission here and there……same old, same old."

Riley nodded. "Hey! Wanna come to the Holiday party I'm gonna have later?"

"What time?"

"At about, oh, the twenty first cycle."

'Zamamee thought. "Sure, why not. There's gonna to be food, correct?"

"Oh, absolutely."

"Okay. Good. Consider my presence a guarantee."

"_Yes_!"

"Oh, wait! Before you go……'_Canundrum_' is lookin' for you," he said the name bitterly.

"Really? What does he want?" Riley asked, cocking his head to one side.

"Of that, I don't know. He just said 'if you see Riley, let him know I'm looking for him'."

"Oh, okay, thanks. See ya later, Zee!"

"Later, doll," 'Zamamee answered, continuing on his way with his distinct and slightly arrogant stride.

"What a gorgeous slab of Sangheili……" Riley sighed with much infatuation, swooning over the imposing officer. "Better find 'Canundrum'."

Riley had walked a ways before arriving at the senior Elite wing which housed their sleeping quarters. Even for upper-classed Elites, the rooms were rather small though they were individual, which was always a plus. Riley strutted down a few doors until he stopped at his friend 'Canundrum's. He briskly knocked on the door and continued humming Christmas carols to himself. 'Canundrum's' door slid open a few seconds later.

"Good, you finally made it," he answered with a smile. "I wasn't sure if I could trust that pompous, spoiled yuppie."

"Come on, now, I don't appreciate smack talk, _especially_ around the holidays. What did you want to see me for, 'Canundrum'?" Riley axed.

"……Call me Marshall," he responded.

"But you never let anyone call you by your first name."

"Well……I think _you're_ worthy. Come on in," was all Riley got out of him.

Riley sighed and entered his friend's quarters. The automatic door shut behind him and Marshall leaned up against it, lighting up one of his menthol cigarettes.

"I uh, don't mean to be rude or anything, but……I'm kinda busy and have a lot of things to do today," Riley explained.

Marshall chuckled. "Oh, Riley……can I give you a hug?"

"Well, sure Marsh, you don't have to ask," Riley answered with some laughter. Marshall immediately wrapped his arms around his friend tightly and began nuzzling him. Riley put his arms around the Elite as well, but he held his pen and pad and drew a hyphen next to "Canundrum".

"So, what do you want for Christmas? I don't have a lot of time to do my shopping."

"……You can't put what I want in a box……"

"Oh,_ I_ get it," Riley chuckled.

"……It's about time—"

"—_You_ want me to just put one of those giant bows on it to save time. What colour do you want? And don't say blue or purple, cuz if you do, I'm gonna have to deck your halls, _if_ you know what I mean."

"What?" Marshall answered.

"……You know……since-since it's Christmas and uh—it's a pun."

"Yeah, I understood that, but seriously, Riley. There's something that's been on my mind for some time and I feel I should get it off of my chest."

"Well, okay, I'll shut—good golly Miss Molly, is that the time?! I've—I've gotta go get my list done, the party and……my tree. I haven't finished my tree yet!" Riley panicked as he bolted out of "Canundrum's" quarters and down the opposite way he came.

"Riley! It's important!" he called after him, leaning out of the doorway.

"I promise you can tell me that _and_ more tonight! See you later Marsh!" Riley yelled over his shoulder.

"Canundrum" frowned. "Riley! Get back—aw, screw it," he finally concluded, letting his friend go. Even though he had authority over him, being of a higher rank, he didn't want to act like a jerk. "Riley hates control-freak Sangheili anyway."

After establishing the rest of his gift ideas, and through several questions and shoves later, Riley arrived back at the rookie sleeping quarters. Upon entering, he noticed that Peter was still there, sitting on his cot.

"Pete Best! You still here?"

"Yep."

"How come? I thought you left to go hang out with Hanjk and James."

"Yeah, well, I was going to, and then my cohort told me that 'Carneigee was looking for us. We promptly hid. He hasn't managed to find me yet, but if he asks, tell him you haven't seen me since this morning."

"Oh, okay. Don't worry, you're safe. I barely ever see him in here," Riley said, opening his bedside table. "Time to put on my Christmas sweater!" Riley said making some "thunderstorm" noises as he pulled it over his head. It was red, had "Ho Ho Ho!' embroidered with the letters that are covered in fake gems and sequence, like the kind eccentric grandmothers wear, and had two poorly fashioned reindeer without eyes in a mating position.

"Ta-daaa!" Riley said as he held out his arms and displayed it for his friend. "So, what do you think?!"

"……I really don't know what to say about that," Peter answered.

"I know, you're jealous, you want one just like it," Riley answered for him, laughing. He skidded over to the wall behind his bed while making racecar noises, and proceeded to open a large, rectangular box.

"What's in there?"

"Why……my Christmas tree!" Riley said in a debonair voice as he struggled to pull it out.

"Is that real?"

"Duh! I had my friend Patrick help me cut it down." Riley strained and grunted as he carried it upright over to a green, metal stand he had set out in the middle of the large room.

"I wonder what the Prophets and the Ship Master are going to say about this……" Peter thought out loud.

"Psh, the Prophets _never_ leaves the Council Chamber or the control center and 'Fullacoke is having like, a mental breakdown or something," Riley said, finally getting the tree onto the stand. "I didn't even _want_ to be in their stupid army, anyway."

"Who _did_?" Peter stated.

"Point. A'course, there's this really emo story about how I joined the army. It has a lot to do with maturity, honour, and my uncle thinking I'm a weenie, but I won't bore you with it now," Riley said making a box with his hands and judging the proportions of the tall evergreen.

"So, how did you get into all this human stuff?" Peter asked, lying down on his friend's cot and letting his arms dangle over the side. Riley was now attempting to untangle some Christmas lights from a smaller box.

"Oh, it was some time ago. I never felt like I fit in, in my society," he said pulling and yanking on the strand while the lights were busy flickering on and off every so once in a while.

"Occasionally I feel the same way……hell, I think _all of us_ feel the same way. I _hate_ being an Unggoy—"

"—I wonder why people sometimes turn their Christmas trees upside-down. It looks so silly—darn it!"

"I mean, _you've_ at least got it better than we do. You have _authority_, we've got, well, nothing—"

"……These lights are _so_ annoying……"

"—I think we should start a revolution, nah, that didn't work out to good, we already tried that."

"……Oh, biscuits……"

"And……you're not really listening, are you?"

"Got it! Hm, what? Oh, sorry. I've been listening on and off, these things are—being—difficult. I don't know how the humans deal with this _every_ year."

"What are we going to do at the party?"

"Well, I figure I'm gonna hold it in one of the smaller but spacious mess hall kinda rooms, you know, by the senior Elite quarters. We're just going to have fun, like listen to Christmas music and I'll have food and flim-flam like that," Riley explained, laying out the strands of lights by the tree.

"Works for me," Peter said with a shrug.

"Pete, be a doll and turn my record player up, will ya?" Riley said nodding towards it. He had his favourite LP, the "Time/Life Treasury of Christmas" playing, like normally, even when it wasn't a human holiday. Following suit, Peter switched the volume higher.

"There we go!" Riley said with a chuckle. He started to cram and wrap the lights around the tree. A few minutes later, he heard the whir of the automatic door into the room. Peter quickly scampered off of the cot and hid underneath it. Sosa 'Carneigee strode in, but stopped at the sight of Riley wrapped in multicoloured lights.

"Happy Yule, Sammy Sosa!" Riley called out with a laugh.

'Carneigee strode closer, but cautiously. "What is that?" he inquired, moving _really_ close to Riley, so close that Riley stepped back a little. Sosa was a major close-talker, he got in _everyone's_ face.

"Oh, this? This is _my_ Christmas tree!" Riley said with a grin.

"……I do not understand, but, all the more to you. Say, you have not seen the Unggoy Peter lately, have you? I know he spends much of his time with you."

"Uh," he answered, looking over to his bed and noticing his friend was gone. 'Carneigee looked over to where Riley's eyes were, but saw nothing either. "I haven't seen him since this morning. But if I manage to catch him, I'll let him know you're lookin' for him."

"Oh, good. Thank you 'Bodensee," 'Carneigee answered as he stepped back and turned to leave. As soon as the door shut again and he was gone, Peter came out from hiding.

"Is he gone?"

"Yep. Coast is clear," Riley said, pulling the last strand off of himself and draping it on the bottom branches of the tree. "Yes," he said to himself with a satisfied sigh. No sooner did he say that, the lights flickered and went out. Riley made an angry "Curly" growl and pounced over to the wall where he had an electrical power-strip hooked up to a small energy conduit it in the wall. It was jammed with all the cords from Riley's luminaries and tree lights to a dangerous level. He got down on his hands and knees as he checked it out.

"Are you sure you know what you're doing? Because, I can call 'the Boyne' if you—"

"—I don't_ need_ 'the Boyne'! _No one_ is calling 'the Boyne'," Riley answered quickly, pointing at Peter with the end of a cord. "Leave 'the Boyne' alone. I _know_ what I'm _doing, Peter_," Riley said in a princess manner. "Gosh, who do you think you are, my aunt?!" he continued as he slowly placed the plug closer to the socket. As soon as he had pushed it in, he was rewarded with a lovely bright blue electrical shock. Amidst the screaming and frying, all the energy on the massive destroyer dimmed out, then dimmed back on again. As soon as it had started, it stopped. Riley's personal armour shields had flared and a few burns were present on his body.

"Told ya you should have called 'the Boyne'……" Peter said, shaking his head.

"……I _don't_ wanna talk about it," Riley answered. He sat up slowly, but smiled. "At least everything is lit. I'll just have to not touch it until I get 'the Boyne' to do something about it," he said the last part in a mocking Peter voice. Peter shook his head again.

Yep, Riley up in his cruiser obviously liked Christmas a lot, but the Master Chief, who took up

residence in Alpha Base south of the gargantuan ship, _did not_. The Master Chief hated Christmas, the whole Christmas season, but don't axe why because how the hell should I know? It could have been that his MJOLNIR was too tight, it could have been that his assault rifle never cocked totally right, but I think that the most likely reason of all was that he had no time for or understanding of national or religious holidays, except for like, Veterans Day, Armed Forces Day, or Memorial Day.

"Reynolds! Those LEDs aren't straight!" Sergeant Avery Johnson holla'd at his new "favourite" soldier.

"'Ey, easy does it, Sahge! Ahm doin' tha best I can!" Reynolds answered as he reached out to fix the strand of Christmas lights.

"That's not the _only_ thing that _isn't _straight around here," the Marine holding the ladder in place chuckled idiotically.

"How many times do I haf ta tell you?! I only did it once 'n I got paid a hundred Australian dollars for it!"

"C.R.E.A.M. get tha money, dolla, dolla bill," another other soldier said jestingly.

Captain Keyes was busying himself with the construction of a gingerbread house while the Master Chief just sat nearby and watched everyone bustle about.

"My name is Captain Keyes and this brings me back to my childhood. My name is Captain Keyes and Christmas was the only day that my father didn't bring out the belt, besides Veterans Day, Armed Forces Day, and Memorial Day. My name is Captain Keyes and Miranda _loves_ Christmas! My name is Captain Keyes, I wonder how she's celebrating in the Cairo," he said nostalgically as he glanced at a holo of a frowning Miranda Keyes near the main panel in the center of the room the UNSC Marines and Naval officers used as a central intelligence room.

"I swear her eyes follow me everywhere I go," one of the Naval personnel said as he turned around from his seat at his panel and stared at the holo.

"My name is Captain Keyes, McKay, I _need_ more frosting!" he said loudly over his shoulder.

"Do _you_ want to make this _yourself_?" she answered.

"My name is Captain Keyes……no."

"Then you'll have to wait……sir."

"My name is Captain Keyes, _fine_!"

"……I think this whole 'holiday' thing is stupid……" the Master Chief said to himself.

"Now Chief……don't be a Scrooge," Cortana said from her docking station in the center of the central Intel room. He looked up and over to her direction, then picked up his chair, turned it the other way, and sat down again with his back facing her.

"Well……I've done all _I_ can do," she said in a sarcastic manner.

"My name is Captain Keyes, is someone having a blue Christmas?" he said, leaving his gingerbread house for a moment and approaching the Chief.

No answer.

Captain Keyes frowned and then shuffled through the mix of music that was playing from one of the stationary monitors. He switched the song from a jazz version of "Winter Wonderland" to the god awful, haunting "I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas" song. It rang morbidly through the intercom system, clawing at the ear drums of the feeble humans. All the Marines and staff within Alpha Base simultaneously clamped their hands over their ears and screaming in submission.

Cries of "no, no, no!", "shut it off! shut it off!" and colourful streams of curses rang out through the ship.

"My name is Captain Keyes, okay, okay, I'll shut it off!" he sighed angrily, switching it back to the previous song.

"Why do we even _have_ that song in the playlist?" Cortana questioned.

"My name is Captain Keyes and budget cuts, my dear, budget cuts," Keyes answered.

"……What?"

"My name is Captain Keyes, but seriously Chief, why do you have such a bias against Christmas?"

"I just do."

"My name is Captain Keyes, c'mon, there has to be a reason. My name is Captain Keyes, didn't they teach you about it on Fanphalone II?"

"……You mean Eridanus II?" the Master Chief corrected.

"My name is Captain Keyes, yeah, _that_ one!"

"They stayed as far away from religion as possible," Chief explained.

"My name is Captain Keyes……hm, I've got an idea!" he said, snapping his fingers. He ran out of the main control room and down the hallway to the left, arms out, and making airplane noises (vehicular noises have been catching on of late). He returned just a few later, carrying a large book. He tossed it into the Master Chief's heavily armoured lap.

"My name is Captain Keyes, read this. My name is Captain Keyes, then Christmas, your life, and existence in all its integrity will make sense," he explained.

The Master Chief picked up the book. It was a pop-up copy of Charles Dickens's _A Christmas Carol_. He had to admit, the book _was_ flashy and the pop-ups _were_ always attractive to look at, but it really didn't help him understand, much less _care_ about the holiday any more than he previously had.

"I still hate Christmas……" he said, tossing it aside.

"My name is Captain Keyes and _fine then_! My name is Captain Keyes, _you're_ just going to get coal in your stocking."

"……I think you should get that combat concussion checked……sir."

"My name is Captain Keyes, hm……I wonder if Second Squad has found a tree yet," he thought out loud as added more gumdrops to his gingerbread house.

Second Squad had, as a matter of fact, _not_ found a tree yet. Their efforts could also be considered less than their best. Currently, two out of the ten soldiers had been arguing about the ever popular and timeless "does your tongue stick to a metal pole if it's cold outside?" question.

"Yer crazy, Medic Schwartz, mah tongue ain't gonna to stick to this here conduit on this alien-lookin' bridge," Corporal Mathers concluded, favouring the younger soldier with an attitude of complete disdain.

"You're just sayin' that because _you_ know it _will_!" the medic challenged.

"Whaddaya think, Sarge?" Mathers inquired of Sergeant Stacker as he stood nearby with the rest of his men.

"He's right. It's gonna stick. Doncha watch movies?" he answered.

"Baloney!" Mathers spat.

"Then _do it_!" Schwartz pressed on.

"Yer crazy! I'm not doin' it."

"……I dare you!"

"……Yer full of it." Mathers was intimidated now. He had been _dared_ to go through with it. Even for a diminutive medic, the Corporal couldn't help but believe that there might be some truth to the action. The next step would be a double dog dare.

"……_I triple dog dare you_!" Schwartz yelled.

The whole squad went silent as their mouths hung agape. Schwartz had skipped all the way to a _triple dog dare_! There was no turning back now.

"……All right, all right! I'll do it! Step aside!" Corporal Mathers said, pushing a few men out of the way. He stood poised in front of the conduit. The lights from the ancient metal bridge glinting off of its silver coating as big flakes swirled down from the gray sky and occasionally stuck in place. Mathers crouched down a little and readied his tongue for an inevitable fate.

"Go on, _do it_, smart ass!"

"I'm goin', I'm goin'! Don't rush me," the Corporal said, punching the medic swiftly on the shoulder. He sighed quickly, exposed his tongue, and moved in. In one fluid movement, he pressed it to the conduit, clouds of breath from his exhalation swirled around his face as the wind picked up slightly.

"Thee, told ju it wouldn," Mathers attempted to pull his tongue off of the conduit, but he failed miserably. Every tiny jerk was rewarded with a stab of pain. He began to panic slightly.

"Thtuck? Ith thtuck," he admitted. The whole squadron burst out into gales of laughter.

"See?! Told you it would stick!" Medic Schwartz said triumphantly.

"Yeah, yeah waedda! Guyth, gimme oth!" Mathers pleaded, trying to twist his tongue off.

"Hold on a sec," Sergeant Stacker said, keying his radio.

"My name is Captain Keyes, have your men found a tree yet, Stacker?" his voice could be heard over the team comm. as the other Marines quieted down to listen.

"Uh, no, not yet, sir. But I reckon we're mighty close," Stacker answered.

"My name is Captain Keyes, keep tryin'. My name is Captain Keyes, Keyes out."

"All right men, you heard the man. Are we makin' love or movin' out? Let's go!" he ordered. The Marines hefted up their weapons, which had been fitted with special bayonets designed to hack down evergreen or conifer trees, and continued across the bridge.

"Aw cim on guyth!" Corporal Mathers said loudly as he watched his team file out. "Hey! Hey, Trivat Nahoney, gimme thom helt!" he hollered at Private Mahoney. The soldier turned around, made a move to turn around and help the pitiful Corporal, when he stopped in his tracks and shrugged.

"But we got orders to move out," he said apathetically.

"Aw cim on!"

"……But, we got orders," Mahoney said, sounding rather disappointed that he couldn't help.

"You gah-damn thons a' dithes!" Corporal Mathers shouted at the top of his lungs as the rest of the Marines in the area disappearing, leaving him cold, alone, and fused to a metal power conduit.

Somewhere within the murky wetlands of the ring world, combat Floods Stanley and Patrick both came to the consonance of stopping their intercourse and doing something productive……not that sex isn't productive, but you know the Flood motto: "Stop masturbating and grab a rifle!"

"Ha, I don't have to worry about putting clothes and armour on," Big Pat said as he watched Stanley climb off of the floor.

"And I bet you just love running around naked," Stan retorted.

"Technically, I am wearing armour, you know. Are you gonna come with me to Riley's party later?"

"Who the fuck is Riley?"

"_You know_……that annoying Sangheili we had to hang out with?"

"……Which one?"

"The one with the blue armour."

"……_Which one_?"

"The one with glasses."

"Oh! Yeah, _that_ guy. Hm, lemme think……no."

"C'mon, Stanley! It'll be fun!"

"Spending a whole night aboard a foreign ship with a bunch of drunken, homicidal, Flood-hating aliens with weird laughs _doesn't_ exactly sound like the way in which I planned my schedule."

"You _never_ want to do _anything_ I do, Stan! You _never _wanna go hang out with _my_ friends and you _never_ wanna go to my plasma weapon discussion group!"

"Patrick, all it is, is a buncha toolkit, stereotypes talking about what shade of colour the Covenant weapons are and how they can be improved. It's about as fun as a night with the Reagans."

"Hey! It's not _just_ observation it's a way of life! Besides, this is gonna be a _Christmas_ party."

Stanley froze, glaring maliciously at Big Pat with his only functional eye. "Did you say '_Christmas_' party?"

"Yep, why? Is that a problem?"

Stanley finished putting his pants back on and faced Pat again. "I_ loathe_ Christmas and everything it stands for……"

"Why? I mean, it _seems_ like a nice—"

"—You don't understand Patrick……_you don't understand_!" Stanley said, cutting him off.

"Now Stanley, I think you're overreacting a little bit."

"Am I Pat……_am I_?! _I remember that one Christmas_," he said sourly. "I was fourteen years old. My mom had been having an affair with this creepy junkie named 'Chahls'……and you _had_ to say it like that. He used to deal heroin down in the dank, filthy allies of Detroit, close to where my host body lived, and knew his way around every easy, white woman in the city, which is to say, very few. So, not having a stable father-figure in my life because my insanely Catholic father spent most of his time at adoration, I relied on 'Santa Claus' for some kind of deliverance……either it be to a foster home or that twelve gauge shotgun I had been wanting, either or would have very well worked. On Christmas Eve, I distinctly remember sneaking downstairs at about, oh, one twenty one in the morning……"

"……What happened?"

"……Oh……_I saw 'Santa Claus'_……and by _Santa_ I mean '_Chahls_' dressed up in a raunchy costume banging my mom on the sofa while he yelled, 'Imunna put 'mo in yo stockin' than coal, bitch!" Stanley explained.

"……You poor thing," Big Pat said giving him a reassuring hug.

"And from then on……I've hated Christmas……"

"Oh……_so_……are you still going to the party or what?"

"_N_o, I am _not_ going to the party!"

"Aw, c'mon Stan! Don't be such a downer! Think of all the good times you've had at Christmas."

"……There _were _no 'good times'!"

"How come it's always about _you_?! What about me and my—"

"—You give me this speech _every time_ we have an argument……"

"Wull, if you would just _answer me_ for once, we woodin have tah go over this!"

"Aagh," accompanied by a shooing gesture was the answer Big Pat would have to settle with.

"Fine! But I'm not bringing you any gingerbread cookies!" Big Pat threatened.

"Well, at least _I _won't be the one eating half my weight in _junk_ which will go directly to my thighs," Stanley retorted.

"Are you saying I'm fat?!"

"Let's just say that there's a reason as to why_ I'm_ always on _top_."

That did it. Big Pat immediately let out a long wail and ran sobbing out of homing wing five. Since this particular ring is run by the totalitarian-fascist Flood government, or Floodvernment, and were opposed to everything other than Flood, calling it "sleeping quarters" or "barracks" was against the law. Stanley shook his head and sighed in frustration. A single infection form dropped from the tall ceiling and bounced once on the floor next to Stanley's boots.

"Why do some men get so moody after sex, Elliot? They either fall asleep, or they get all emotional," he asked the infection for as he lit up another cigarette. The Flood isn't allowed to have menthol because that's what Covenant Elites smoke.

The other Flood made a noise that sounded like someone stepping on a dead fish, but it roughly translated to, "you're asking me this _why_?"

"Oh well. Walk with me," Stanley said as he nodded towards the door, taking his time to catch up with his significant other.

Commanders Ivan and Jared were relaxing in their quarters with the various members of their Schützstaffeln that weren't patrolling and Field Marshals they deemed worthy enough to party with. After their joyride in the Library with Ivan's new Mercedes Benz, they were playing a hand of pinochle and sharing a bottle of PAM, their favourite activities to do with close members of their War Department. The others were busying themselves elsewhere in the room. Papa Flood was rambling to himself in the corner about Christmas when he was "in his prime".

"When I was a youngin, I remember goin' to midnight mass with Bubbe Jo and the rest of the family. Then we'd go home and we'd each get a piece of Eucharist bread and—"

"—Why don't you shush for a moment, old man?! You'll wear yourself out," Ivan said aloud, tapping a cigarette over the ashtray.

"Now you see here, David!"

"_Ivan_, Papa Flood, _Ivan_," he corrected glumly.

"……What was I talking about again?"

There was general laughter among the Officials, Marshals, and SS.

"Honrestly, Ivan, why drew we kreep him around?" Jared inquired.

"Even _I_ don't have an answer for that, dear Jared," he said. Everyone heard a knock on the immense doors. "What do they want _now_?" Ivan said irately, tossing his cards carelessly on the table. He rose from his chair and strode to the door, Jared and the Schützstaffeln following him. Upon their automatic opening, he discovered two of their soldiers, a former human wearing his uniform and a babushka as well as a former Elite who wasn't wearing a babushka. The former human was holding a plate of cookies in which he held out to Ivan.

"On behalf of the soldiers and the Flood, we made you these, sirs," he said, saluting with the other soldier.

"Oh," Ivan said with a smile as he accepted it gratefully. "At ease," he continued as he handed it to Ringsmarschal Hindenburg, who eyed them hungrily.

"Don't give them to James Fatterson," Anderson advised.

After glaring at both Anderson and Hindenburg, he then he proceeded shake both of their hands. "You have no idea how much we need this."

The group of Floods laughed together.

"Well, thank you again. And thank the others for us. Oh, and, one last thing……why are you wearing a babushka?"

"……It seemed like a good idea at the time, sir."

"Ah. Good thinking, Private."

Both soldiers saluted and said, "Heil!" then turned to leave.

"Where are you going? You were not dismissed," Ivan pointed out.

"Oh, right……forgive us, sir," the Covenant Flood apologized.

"Who else would I appoint to help us eat these cookies?"

"……But, they're for the commanding officers," the human Flood said.

"_That's_ not shady," Captain Anderson said.

Ivan gave them a long, cold glare. He snatched the plate back from Hindenburg. "……Please, _I insist_."

Both soldiers searched the plate before carefully picking out two. "Oh wait, I can't eat!" the Covenant Flood said with a chuckle. Babushka Flood ate the cookie, as ordered. Then they waited for four minutes. He shrugged.

"Tastes pretty good to me. They came out better than I though. We were hoping they would be to your liking."

"Hm……grood. Why dron't you trake another for grood mrehsure?" Jared commanded lightly.

"……With all due respect, Commander, I would not want to eat _your gift_," he said with a nervous chuckle.

"That was an _order_, not a suggestron," Jared growled.

"...Yes, sir." He reluctantly took another cookie. He held it front of him for a long time and then started sobbing as he dropped it and it fell to the metal floor.

Ivan eyed the two soldiers and handed the plate back to Hindenburg.

"We're sorry, sir! Some of the soldiers put cyanide in the cookies! I didn't want them too, but they were going to murder me if I didn't go along with them!" he sobbed, collapsing to his knees and hugging Ivan around the ankles. Ivan lifted the soldier off by his shoulder and yanked him up.

"Relax, soldier. I pardon you," he said gallantly, holding an arm out as a butler does to indicate which door to pass through.

"Oh, thank you! Thank you, Commanders! Heil! Heil again!" he said through a fusion of crying and laughing, general hysterics, as he and the other soldier raced down the hall. Ivan smiled as he slowly drew his M6D pistol from the holster inside his uniform. Aiming it expertly, he fired four rounds, two of which planted themselves in the chests of each soldier.

"Rebellion is a thing of the past……" he said, holding the smoking pistol near his head, pointed to the ceiling. He turned it over a few times gracefully by the trigger and thrust it back into its holster. "I think it was your turn, 'Magee," he addressed the Officer.

"……Does this mean we can't eat the cookies?" Hindenburg axed.

Ivan stared at him blankly. "Hindenburg……I……I don't have a witty remark, for _once_."

"Look how sad you made Fatty Arbuckle," Anderson snickered.

"I'm done!" Riley screamed in the tone of a five year old when they're finished making macaroni art and they expect you to care. He put the last ornament on his tree. "Isn't it sexy?"

Peter cocked his head to the side and looked at it harder. "I don't know if I'd use the word 'sexy' but it is very bright and colourful."

"Hee……it's shiny," Riley said as he gave himself a hug. He then clasped his hands together loudly. "I need to write my Christmas letter to Santa before I forget! Then I have to go abscond with a little more food and then……it's party time!" he explained to Peter.

"Hm……I suppose that means you want me to—"

No sooner had Peter finished his sentence, Riley grabbed him by the bottom of his armour and the top of his methane tank and gently tossed him out of the sleeping quarters.

"Gotta take care 'o busy-ness! See ya later, puddin'!"

After stepping out of the doorway to let it seal, Riley sprinted back to his bed, which was the farthest down at the left row. Just before he came to his bedside table, he dive-rolled gallantly, and grabbed his favourite pen. Yep, the one that wrote in _green_ ink. Then he dashed over to one of two desks stationed in opposite corners of the monstrous room.

"Paper! Pen! _Self_!" he said loudly as he slammed a slice of paper on the desktop, threw his pen down, and seated himself roughly in the chair. Sighing contentedly, he took up his pen. "Let's get to work," he said as he briskly rubbed the tip of the pen on the inside of one of his lower jaws to get the ink going. Riley rest his head on a fist as he stared the blank slice of paper down. "Dear Santa……Santa _Baby_," he read out loud with a girlish giggle. He sighed again, taking a few units to actually think about what he wanted this year. He started tapping his pen against the side of his helmet. Too busy being lost in his own thoughts, he didn't hear the whir of the automatic door into the quarters. In stepped Marvin 'Archeree, figuring that he had nothing better to do, he would go and taunt Riley for a while. Zuka 'Zamamee wasn't around either, so he was in the clear. He stopped and placed his hands on his hips when he noticed the minor Elite sitting at the desk in the farthest corner of the vast room. Riley's voice echoed slightly among the silence and the softness of his record player barely made a dent in the sound barrier.

"This is gonna be good," he chuckled as he started forward. He was about to call Riley out, when he listened in on the other Elite's conversation with himself.

"Huh, you know……I honestly have _no_ clue of what I want for Christmas. I've got my friends, my optimism, my health……there's nothing I really _want or need_ materialistically." Marvin figured this was a good time to say something witty and rude, when Riley gasped in inspiration. This startled Marvin and he stopped in his tracks. Riley snapped his fingers and took up his pen for the third time.

Dear Santa Baby,

How are you doing? I'm a huge fan! Even though I'm a Sangheili, I hope you won't take my Christmas list for granted. This year, I don't know what to ask for that you can actually put in a box. This is probably good news for you. However, there is one thing I would really like you to do. All I want for Christmas is the Sangheili Marvin 'Archeree to be happy—"

Marvin froze. He slid into a corner and listened in intently.

"I know he's kind of vain, and a jerk, and is a complete control-freak……but I think there's a story as to why he acts that way. I know deep down he's a good guy. He doesn't really _mean_ any harm, he's just getting rid of bottled up anger that was obviously put there unintentionally by an abusive, alcoholic step-dad. I don't really care how it's carried out, but my Christmas wish is that he'll smile and act more like the kind, sweet-hearted Sangheili I know he is. I really hope you have a safe trip, make everyone happy, and come to the sacred "Halo" ring. The humans and other soldiers here could use some cheer.

Lots of Love+Merry Christmas,

Riley 'Bodensee

Riley held it up and reread it to make sure it was spotless. Marvin lowered his eyes to the floor. He could hardly believe what he had just heard. _The stupid bastard is sacrificing _his_ wish to request that _I'm_ happy,_ he thought to himself. A grim and guilty expression spread across his face as he shook his head. After watching Riley fold it, stick it in the envelope, wet it, make a comment about how good the glue tasted, and set it on the desk, Marvin turned and headed for the door, staring at the metal floor the whole time. He figured there were some Jackals to be pushed around somewhere……Riley was busy at the moment.

Just as he left, Riley turned to the sound of the automatic door closing.

"Hm?……Oh, well. They must have been _so_ excited by my holiday spirit that they couldn't contain themselves," Riley said with a round of medium speed, staccato machine-gun laughter. Directly after cracking himself up, he took off his glasses for a moment and wiped his eyes. "Oh life……well, I should probably go steal—I mean 'borrow without asking'—the rest of the food," he corrected himself as he got up from his chair, put the letter under his pillow, and headed out the door.

His plan of attack was simple, "catch the Sangheili who was in charge of rations off guard." It didn't take him more than the rest of the walk down the hallway to figure out how to execute this, and frankly, a two year old boy could even figure something like _that_ out.

Riley was at the mess hall in no time. Gently opening the door, he found that there was virtually no one inside. The place was filled with Rutluk decorations.

"Psh……n00b5," Riley said as he rolled his eyes playfully. Normally, the place was packed around this time, but many of the soldiers were busy with their own assignments and whatnot. Save for an Elite who was sleeping under one of the long tables and two Jackals that were playing a Covenant game similar to chess, not a soul was in sight.

"Excellent……" Riley said to himself devilishly as he drifted over to the kitchen and opened the door. Another Elite was stretched out on a chair, arms folded across his broad chest and his head tilted back sleepily. Cargo modules and crates loaded with five inch tubes filled with different colour paste were placed up against the walls, stacked on top of each other, and generally placed everywhere. Riley slowly grabbed a large pot and a wooden spoon and gingerly advanced on the other officer. He was within two units of him, when the other Elite twitched, yawned loudly while stretching his sinewy arms, and resumed his position. Gathering the courage to move again, Riley moved just a little bit forward, screamed, "Bonsai!" at the top of his lungs, and leaped over to the chair. The opposing Elite immediately woke with a start, only to have Riley land behind him, jam the pot over his head, and strike it as hard as he could with the spoon multiple times.

This shenanigan went on for a good three minutes, enticing the two Jackals just outside in the hall and causing the other sleeping Elite to stir.

Riley finally stopped. Breathing heavily and dramatically, he watched as the other officer collapsed to his knees then to the floor. Riley yelled quickly as he threw the spoon as hard as he possibly could at the pot. It ricocheted off a good twelve feet in the air.

"Thug life," he declared as he dusted off his hands and gathered up the necessary tubes he required.

He emerged from the kitchen moments later, carrying the crates and singing the schizo-song (a.k.a. "Do You Hear What I Hear?" The Dean Martin version, because it's the only really good one.) Both of the Jackals were looking at him in absolute fear. He halted for a moment to look in their direction. Once the three pairs of eyes locked, Riley looked from the kitchen back to them, to his load back to them, and cackled eerily.

"Hey……do you guys wanna come to my party tonight?" he asked in a seemingly Igor-ish voice.

Almost immediately, both Jackals shook their heads rapidly, their frightened mugs unchanged.

"Well, okay then. Your loss," he topped it off with his annoying laugh and promptly exited the mess hall, leaving the Jackals with nothing but gnawing fear.

Master Chief glared down at the rolling, snow covered hills and tall canyon peaks through the thick, reflective visor on his helmet. He heard the loud and somewhat whiny commands of Captain Keyes as he ordered various Marine to decorate things and what have you. Shaking his head, he turned his attention back to the ring world underneath the base set up on the butte. The only thing that was stirring was the heavy snow that was swirling and floating through the atmosphere. Not a Covenant or a Flood in sight. The Chief wondered if maybe the alien freaks were off performing some odd, holiday ritual or just sitting around being stupid. "Yeah, the second one," he said to himself. He thought about his fellow soldiers and the headache they would bring tomorrow……

"All the Marines in this base will wake bright and early……they'll rush for homemade brew……oh the noise that will ensue…," he said to Cortana, growing increasingly angry.

"Oh, this is gonna be good," she said sarcastically as she shook her transparent head.

"Oh the sounds that they'll make, the laughter and cheer, from the first drink of Vermouth they take, to the vodka and the beer—"

"Not the rhyming……" Cortana added.

"Those damn Marines, they'll have every kind! Nothing on Reach can compare to what I have seen, from Becks and Bud Light all the way down to moonshine!"

"……He only does this when he's _really_ mad—"

"—There will be buckets and buckets of fermented wine and cheap UNSC alcohol! They'll pour in their orders, oh how the list will be tall!"

"……We go through this _every_ year—"

"—And the aftermath when they're all drunk, it will be the most fearful. They'll be loaded with the junk, they'll be clumsy and sick which is _anything_ but cheerful."

"You know……as annoying as this is, he isn't bad—"

"—Oh, just wait and see, when they'll be trashed and wasted. I'm stricken with anger and depression not glee, concussions and vomit is what will be tasted."

"……Kinda reminds one of Run-D.M.C.—"

"When they're shit-faced and hammered, _then_ they'll do something I hate most of all. Tripping over one another all plastered and blotto, every Marine in the corps will join hands the tall and the small. Then they'll sing the same annoying Christmas song, only that one repeatedly. This Spartan has put up with it for much too long, I need to get out of here, please, someone _save me_."

"…….DJ One One Seven in the house……"

"Why, for eleven years I've put up with it now, I must find a way to stop Christmas from coming! But how?" the Master Chief stopped his cliché rhyming. "Cortana, what can I do to stop the drunken merriment that will take place at like, five tomorrow morning?"

"Stop Christmas? Even _you_ can't stop Christmas. It's a traditional Christian human holiday," she explained.

"Very well. If _you_ won't help me, I'll find someone _who will_," he grumbled as he grabbed "Valerie" his trusted MA5B assault rifle, his new M6D pistol "Blitzen", stocked up on ammo, and made for the bottom level of Alpha Base to leave.

Not too terribly far away, Riley had put his red and white striped scarf on, and was wandering through the second of many snowy canyons, snapping his fingers and singing "Hey! Santa" by the Brian Setzer Orchestra. During the middle of the song, he hopped up on a boulder, strode across it, then jumped back down on it's opposite side, continuing into the brightly lit tunnel underneath a solid wall of canyon. Occasionally being assigned a small squad of Jackals and Grunts, his only order of them was to string multicoloured lights on the walls and "icicle" hanging lights near the top of the tunnel. His hindering chuckle echoed in the vast tunnel as he gazed at the unmistakably good job they did. He stopped singing, paused in place. One booted foot in the air, he turned attention to a tiny burned out bulb on a strand near the end of the tunnel. He approached it, frustrated, and unscrewed it. He pulled out another from one of those handy plastic bags with extras near the plug and replaced it agilely. Seeing the new bulb immediately light up and gleam brighter than ever, he chuckled again as he continued to the end of the tunnel.

He exited the tunnel heroically, placing his hands on his hips and throwing his scrawny chest out. He scanned the tundra about him and squealed in pleasure as he noticed Big Pat lying down on a tall, flat boulder, gazing up at the sky. Riley sprinted over to the boulder.

"D'dunkadunk!" he yelled as he placed all of his weight on his palms and vaulted himself up so he could see Big Pat. The Flood was startled at this and let out a cry of fear as he jumped a foot and fell into the snow.

"Riley! Don't do that to me!" he said, sitting up and placing a hand over where the former Elite's multiple hearts were.

"Ha! I got you so good! You shoulda seen the look on your face!" Riley said, laughing hysterically as he threw himself into the snow.

"I DON'T HAVE A FACE!" Big Pat wailed.

"Oh……yeah, I kinda furgot," Riley said innocently.

"Okay, yeah, sure, whatever," Big Pat said.

"Here," Riley said, giving him an extremely tight hug. "Better?"

"……Aw, who could stay mad at you?" Big Pat said, returning it twice as hard.

"So, where's Stanley? Didn't he come?" Riley asked, cocking his head to one side.

"You're so cute when you do that—"

Riley grinned.

Pat sighed angrily. "He's around here somewhere……STANLEY!"

"_What_?" came the answer as he appeared on top of the boulder and hung his arms lazily over it.

"Oh, here he is," Pat said.

"Are you guys coming to my party later? It's gonna be so trippin'!" Riley said excitedly.

"Sure we will, _right Stanley_?" he said, craning his head in his direction.

"_I'm_ not."

"Aw, c'mon Stani! It'll be so much fun!"

"No."

"Pleez?!"

"_No_."

"Why not?! There's gonna be alcohol! And Christmas cookies which were made by yours truly, thank you very much," Riley persuaded.

"I don't like Christmas. Never have, never will."

Riley gasped aloud. "……_Blasphemy_!"

"Psh, I don't need your religion," he sneered.

"Fine then! Be a butt! You'll just miss out and Santa won't come to the Flood base! And then you'll ruin Christmas for all the other Floods! You'll go down in history as one of the 'Great Christmas Destroyers', just like Ira Gershwin and Kaiser Wilhelm!"

"……What? Who are _they_?"

"Oh, Covenant Imperial Marching Band, rest in peace……I don't know who the second guy is though," Riley chuckled nostalgically.

"All the other Floods follow Commander Dolomite and Ship Master Nonsense, none of them have their own lives or make decisions for themselves," Stanley said.

Riley sighed. "Oh, whatever! Now, _who_ wants to help my put the final touches on the decorations in the hall?"

Big Pat gasped and rapidly shook his heads. "Oh, oh, oh! I do! I do!"

"Then what are we waiting for?! The next skirmish?! _Let's go_!" he shouted as he whipped around, covered one eye with his hand, and pointed to the direction of his ship. Both Riley and Big Pat dashed off hollering and screaming like there was no tomorrow. Stanley snorted and shook his head.

"God, they're so _juvenile_," he said as he sprawled out on the boulder and lit up another cigarette. He was enjoying himself and his privacy, when he felt someone grab his right boot and yank him off of the large rock. Stanley then found himself staring up into the mirrored visor of the Master Chief. The Spartan raised his assault rifle to the combat form's eye-level.

"I wasn't doing anything, I swear! I'm not even armed! See?! I though we were on—"

"—Stop talking. You were the Flood who tried to get me to surrender the Index, right?"

"……Oh yeah, I remember that! Wow, I bet you felt like a complete ass when you realized I was right."

"……Shut up. Look Flood, _you're_ the _only_ one out here and I'm ashamed to admit that I need your help."

Stanley grinned devilishly. "Well, well, well……"

"_Don't_ say anything that might get you killed," the Master Chief said, cocking the rifle. "Look……you've got all the requirements I need to help me get rid of Christmas in our base."

Stanley's eye got wider. "……_You_ hate Christmas too?"

"……Yes?"

"Hell yeah! My host body's hated it for most of its life. There's a long and gruesome story as to why _I_ do……wanna hear it?"

"No."

"Okay, here it goes—"

So Stanley proceeded to tell Chief about his mom's junkie affair and his first encounter with "Santa".

"……That story sounds familiar. I remember some Marines talking about why a Gallolawrence joined the Corps."

"Yeah……shootin' stuff is kick-ass not to mention pretty orgasmic."

"_Didn't_ need to hear that."

"Maybe not. So, how are we going to tackle this bitch called 'Christmas'?"

"Oh……I'm _way_ ahead of you……" the Master Chief said with a nod.

"That's the last of the food," Riley said as he placed the last crate of food tubes on the long table that was covered with a red plaid tablecloth. "Just one last thing……" He placed a platter of vibrantly frosted sugar cookies on the table. "Cha-ching."

"Ooooooh, those look _so_ good," Big Pat said, eyeing (or not) them hungrily.

Peter had also arrived to help set up. "When's the party start?"

"As soon as people start showing up," Riley said, taking the plastic wrap off of the plate. No sooner had he said that, Marshall "Canundrum" 'Nordsee entered, the loud automatic door announcing his presence.

"Marshie!" Riley said as he gently pushed Peter out of the way and hugged his friend. "Canundrum" affectionately hugged back.

"Can I talk to you _now_?" he asked with a chuckle.

"Sure, go right a—" Riley was interrupted by James and Hanjk who entered next. James, who had, upon entry, yelled, "Y'all need some Christmas up in here!"

"Jamo! Mah main brotha!" Riley said as he squirmed from "Canundrum's" grip and went over to perform a drawn out "Gangsta" handshake with him. He then grabbed Hanjk around the neck and gave him an aggressive noogie.

"Yo boy, wearz ev'raboday? I thought this wuz a party," James said scanning the rather small hall.

"Well, you guys are kinda early, just give everyone some time," Riley said, cracking himself a "TerriZOR" bottle. "Canundrum" already helped himself and was leaning up against one of the three long windows that sat side-by-side on the left wall. Peter was conversing with Hanjk and Big Pat was sifting through the LPs Riley had. He had currently picked "Frank Sinatra and Bing Crosby Do Christmas".

It didn't take very long for the different Covenant Riley invited to trickle in. Soon, to everyone's surprise, the hall was half-filled with soldiers of all different ranks, which really mean mostly Jackals and Grunts, and only six Elites, counting Riley and "Canundrum".

Special Ops Officer Zuka 'Zamamee was the last one to arrive. Riley immediately stopped his mingling with a trio of Grunts and rushed over to greet him.

"Double Zee! Yay! You actually made it!" he said as he advanced on 'Zamamee.

"Well, naturally……you think I'd miss a party? You know how crazy _I _am. I don't even remember the night I got promoted to Special Operatives," he said, gazing around the hall. Riley tried to stifle his bashfully laughter as much as he could. "Our warriors have been through so much these last few ages, it's the least you could do to shed some careless, free party time."

"Oh, _you_!" Riley said with a sigh.

A peeved Marshall 'Nordsee watched them intently from his spot in front of the window.

Captain Anderson, Ringsminister Speekeasie, and Officers Nuremberg, Kristallnacht, and 'Magee were all sitting together on the sofas that were placed near the back of the Commander's chamber. The party had died down since Commander Ivan had called Ringsmarschal Hindenburg into his private quarters for "special debriefing" and "mandatory second-in-command inspection." Which means that, once again, they were left alone with Officer Nuremberg.

After sucking the helium out of a balloon, he stood on top of the sofa, and performed a flawless impression of one of the Munchkins from the "Lollipop Guild." Speekeasie looked up at him with a confused stare, Anderson looked bored, and no one is quite sure how the Covenant Floods looked.

"You know……there _wasn't_ any helium in those," Speekeasie said. Nuremberg held the half-deflated balloon and stared at him.

"……You're fibbing," he said with a chuckle.

"Nope."

Realizing that Speekeasie wasn't one to kid around, he dropped the balloon and sat back down on the sofa, hugging himself in a fetal position. Speekeasie attempted to put a few more inches between them.

"They've been in there an awfully long time," Anderson said, looking at his pocket watch. "What do you suppose they're doing?"

"Beats me. You weren't listening to him either?" 'Magee asked.

"They could be having some kind of crazy orgy," Speekeasie suggested unenthusiastically.

Anderson bristled. "……You-you don't really think they're doing _that_, do you?"

"I haven't the foggiest, Anderson. I deliver propaganda, not the future," Speekeasie said.

"It's nice to know that you're finally talking," Kristallnacht said.

"Well, I figure I'd better start, seeing as that's a large portion of my job."

"Yeah, I can see you now……sitting at your desk in the Commander's base _not_ saying anything over the human radio waves," 'Magee laughed. "_That_ would sure be convincing."

"……I'm going to go check and see what they're up to," Anderson said, getting up from the sofa.

"I wouldn't recommend that, I really wouldn't," Speekeasie said.

"I don't care at this point. It's been nearly three hours," he argued, heading towards the door at the far end of the room. Before reaching the sensory field that would cause the automatic door to open, Anderson halted. A few questions of his safety and rank popped into his head. What if he was interrupting some important meeting? What if Hindenburg was receiving some classified data only _he_ could see and hear? The door _was_ closed for a reason and Commander Ivan _did_ demand that all other soldiers leave them alone. Then again, the door was closed _all_ of the time and many of the SS came and went as they pleased. _He_ was the Captain, why _shouldn't _he have the privilege of barging in?

Gathering up his breeches and his courage, he strode right into the sensory field and the automatic door opened. What the Captain stepped into was a private, confidential meeting all right.

"Commander Ivan, Heil!" he said routinely with a salute, but the information that he received was so intense, it caused him to stop in his tracks at the doorway. He stared at the display in front of him with eyes wide and mouth agape, his formerly strong salute falling limply to his side. He witnessed Commander Ivan mounted behind Ringsmarschal Hindenburg on the fancier, senior officer's cot. Officers Löhmann and Reinhardt were present as well, along with another pair of bodyguards who were on the floor. They were in the far right corner and were previously kissing roughly before Anderson arrived. To Anderson, one of the most alarming things of all was the fact that both Commander and the Ringsmarschal were wearing expressions of detest, not of shock.

"……Anderson……I thought I made it _distinctly_ clear that all other soldiers were _not_ to disturb me when I am busy!" Commander Ivan growled.

Captain Anderson searched for words, for an explanation as not to keep his commanding officer waiting, but he couldn't find anything. A malicious grin spread across Hindenburg's face.

"Well, Anderson?! What have you to say for yourself?!" Ivan demanded, the volume of his voice rising.

Anderson thought hard and then he found the courage to speak.

"……What are you doing with the Ringsmarschal?" he asked.

"What do _you_ care? Why should _I _share my personal business with _you_?"

"Because……I thought I was the only one in which you—did this with."

Commander Ivan stared at him for a moment. His harsh stare soon became a chuckle, which then escalated even further to a full-fledged evil dictator's cackle. Hindenburg and the SS soldiers joined him, making matters worse.

"Are you _serious_? You actually thought that _you_ were the _only_ bitch I had?" Ivan asked.

"I-I'm, I'm so confused……"

"Listen, Anderson……let me explain something to you," Ivan said as two other officers came over and sat on either side of the cot. He put his arms around both of them. "Do you know what the double SS's on your forearm stand for?"

Anderson looked at the thin armlets that were wrapped around the forearms his black tunic. He looked over his entire uniform. "……They, they stand for 'Schützstaffeln'. I'm one of your protectors. The word in German clearly means—"

"—That's cute, Anderson, it really is. No. In some other fantasy, past life it _may_ stand for 'Schützstaffeln', but do you know what it stands for in _this_ day and age, on _this_ ring, in _this_ base?"

Anderson placed a hand over the armlet on his left forearm. He shook his head slowly.

"Apparently you don't……it stands for 'Sex Slave'," he stated matter-of-factly.

Anderson's head shot up, a looked of absolute repulsion on his face. Commander Ivan laughed harder.

"That's right, Anderson……along with you, I've got _four hundred_ 'Sex Slaves' to go to bed with, and they change _every_ night, depending on how I feel or who performs the best. Do you also wish to know why _you're_ the _Captain_ of the 'Sex Slaves'?"

He was afraid that he already knew the answer.

"……I know what you're thinking and it's correct. It's because _you_ were the best to fuck, besides Löhmann and Reinhardt. Sorry, but t_hey_ let me do _whatever _I want to them, like _good_, _obedient_, Delugian soldiers would……don't you boys?"

"Anything for the Führer," Reinhardt said.

"No matter how repulsive or disgusting," Löhmann added.

"I also never got a three-way or an orgy with _you_. Officers Hennessey and Robbins are _very_ good at that," the Commander said, looking over to their position. What they were doing made Anderson cringe. "You were also the cutest, even before Hindenburg, but _he's_ got the best cock. Trust me, I've seen over four hundred."

"_Told you_ it was magnificent. I do believe I _also_ told you that _I_ was the 'favourite'," Hindenburg boasted.

Tears welling up in his eyes, Anderson ripped the SS patch off the collar of his black jacket and the red "Schützstaffeln" armlets off of his forearms and dropped them all on the floor before storming out of the room.

"Merry Christmas, Captain Anderson!" Commander Ivan called out.

The other soldiers watched him as he stalked across the room and left the quarters.

"Yikes……what do you think happened? Do you think he got fired for going in there?" Nuremberg asked.

Speekeasie shrugged and rolled his eyes. "I'm guessing it was some sort of drama involving relations."

"……Did you see how angry he looked?" Kristallnacht inquired.

"Did anyone see what Commander Ivan and Ringsmarschal Hindenburg were doing?" 'Magee asked.

None of the others saw or heard anything clear enough. Either that or they clearly refused to discuss it.

"I'm gonna go look for Anderson. I think he needs some serious hugs right about now," he said, getting up from the sofa and running out of the quarters.

Ringsminister Speekeasie picked up an old issue of "The New Yorker."

"Hey! Who did the crossword in the back?!" he demanded.

"……Why are you looking at _me_ and asking that?" 'Magee inquired.

"Because I don't know of any other Flood that would write ''Magee is cool' or any variation of that in every single one of the columns."

"……That's not true. I wrote 'SteakUmn' in thirty three down."

"……'Frankly my dear, I don't give a SteakUm'?" Speekeasie asked unemotionally.

"Yeah, I put an N at the end instead of another M."

"It doesn't even fit."

"……Oh, I _made_ it fit."

A good twelve minutes of searching and questioning went by before Nuremberg found the morose Captain. He was sitting on the ledge of a deactivated light bridge, head resting on his knees.

"Hey," he said, putting a reassuring hand on the other Flood's back. "What's wrong? What happened in there?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Anderson said, his voice muffled.

"……Did you get demoted?"

"Worse."

"……What could be worse for a high-ranking officer?"

"……You know how we both wear black coats?"

"Yes."

"And SS patches?"

"Uh-huh."

"……Can you fathom what any of this means?"

"Psh, it stands for 'Super Smooth', duh!"

"_No_, you _ignorant son of a bitch_! It stands for 'Sex Slave'! Fucking '_Sex Slave_', don't you understand?! We're _not_ _bodyguards_ for the Commanders! The only thing _we_ have to protect is Commander Ivan's loneliness and deprivation!" Anderson yelled. "Don't you see? He uses the four hundred members only to pleasure himself with every night!"

"……I don't think that's what it stands for. I think you're getting a little overworked—"

"—Oh my God, _Nuremberg_! How can you _say that_?! Are you wearing blinders or something?! I _just heard it_ from Ivan a few minutes ago—"

"—_I've _never had sex with Commander Ivan before," Nuremberg retaliated calmly. Anderson immediately silenced. "So……they were—"

"—Yes, Nuremberg……they were just sittin' there……" Anderson couldn't bring himself to finish his sentence. Making an anguished Flood hiss, he rest his head on his knees as he hugged them to his chest.

"Figures. I thought I heard Scandinavian black metal music when you left his room. He would always put Emperor on when and Hindenburg went back there. I could hear it through the wall. I just always assumed they were testing weapons and had trouble getting parts to stick together." Nuremberg sighed deeply. "Look……I know you must be very, very, very, very upset……come here," he said holding his arms out to the other officer. Anderson lowered his head on to Nuremberg's shoulder. The other officer gave the distraught Captain a loving hug and tried to calm him down. "Guess it's not going to be a very merry Christmas after all. I _told_ you, you should have been nice to your soldiers."

"Hey, _Nuremberg_," he heard amidst his comforting.

"Yes?" he answered, releasing Anderson but keeping one arm around him.

They had been approached by Officers Löhmann and Reinhardt. Anderson gave them the hardest glares he could.

"Commander Ivan wants to see you in his quarters," Löhmann sneered.

"Officer Löhmann, could you give us, like—"

"—He said to come _now_, or he'd tear off your limbs and leave you for the Sentinels," Reinhardt growled.

"You'd _better_ not keep your commanding officer waiting," Löhmann grunted.

"Sorry, Officers," Nuremberg answered timidly. Staging one last look at Captain Anderson, he turned to follow the more senior officers.

"Mach Schnell, rookie!" Reinhardt called out and Nuremberg high-tailed it to catch up with them.


	2. Christmageddon

CHRISTMAGGEDON

**CHRISTMAGGEDON**

After sneaking Stanley into one of the rooms on the top level of the established base, they feverishly discussed how they were going to carry out "Operation: Wreck the Halls." They both were hunched over a table with a slice of paper.

"How do you propose to carry out this operation?" Stanley said, resting his elbows on the edge of the table.

"I've been planning it for a few days now. First, we're going to need to wait until all the Marines are asleep and then we'll take all of their alcohol—"

"—All of it?" Stanley said, shocked.

"_All of it_."

"Well, you gotta hit 'em where it hurts, and there isn't any place to get alcohol on this ring, that's one of the reasons why the Flood use PAM cooking spray. That stuff will get you drunker than you'd expect."

"……I don't want to understand how that works," the Master Chief said, putting the clamp on that subject.

"What do we do after we got the booze?"

"Well, we need to take care of their gifts first. That's the alcohol. Then, we should move on to taking all of their decorations and burning them," Chief explained.

"Ooooooh……a little pyrotechnics. I like the way you think," Stanley chuckled in a sinister manner.

"At long last, I say we take a Warthog, fashion it to look something like 'Santa's' sleigh, then we haul ass around and ruin anything that involves Christmas. I don't know what the Covenant do as a holiday and Cortana wouldn't give me any info."

"……You're so bad," Stanley said. "But—" he said drawing closer to the Spartan, as if someone was trying to listen in. "You know that annoying Elite?"

"Which one?"

"You know, the one with the weird laugh."

"_Which one_?"

"The one that wears glasses!"

"Oh……that one. Ugh……how could I _forget_."

"Well, _I _happen to know that he's throwing a Christmas party……what time is it?"

"Ten after eight."

"Okay, it's already started so _I_ think we should _totally_ crash it," Stanley suggested.

"……That's not a bad idea. We'll take the 'Hog to the Covenant ship and make an unwelcome appearance. Seeing me _and_ a Flood should scare the extraterrestrial crap out of them," the Master Chief said deviously. "Okay, let's get to work."

The Master Chief and Stanley Flood sneaked down to the cargo area. The place was loaded with ammunition, weapons, first aid, a few Pelicans, and tons of Warthogs to choose from.

"Which one are we pimping out?" Stanley inquired.

"……The one in the way back there. It's location will make it easier to tamper with," he suggested, pointing out the designated LRV.

"I think this is one Christmas I'm actually gonna enjoy," Stanley said.

The Master Chief had previously absconded with some decorations from the boxes that the Marines had stacked upon another in the Master Control Room. Using empty shell casings, pieces of scrap metal, what ever Stanley found in the trash receptacle, and the decorations, they got to work pimping out their "Anti-Sleigh".

The whole process took nearly an hours, but their 'Hog was dressed to kill.

"You know what I hate? I hate when people write songs about me behind my back and then publicly humiliate me with them……" Master Chief said as stuck a fake Poinsettia on the rear-view mirror and dusted off his hands.

"This has happened before?" Stanley asked, curious, as he climbed out of the LRV and shut the hood.

"Let's just say there's a reason why I go into cryo-sleep. But that isn't the point. Okay, we're all set. Now we just need to go on the upper levels and steal the decorations. Take anything and everything you find that has significance to Christmas," he sternly instructed.

"……How about a young soldier's virginity? Or several young men, for that matter," Stanley asked with a chuckle.

"……Well……it does _remotely_ have something to do with Christmas, but _no_. That's letting you go too far. I had a hard time just trying to bring myself to employ your _help_."

"Very well then."

"But……if you see an intricate gingerbread house in the Master Control Room, leave it. _I'm_ taking care of _that_ son of a bitch."

"Yes, sir," Stanley answered.

"Hm……we should probably do something to remotely disguise your Flood exterior. Since I can't find a straight edge Marine, I'll make one instead."

"Does this mean I can't sneak a nip 'a hooch?" Stanley inquired.

"No—way."

They decided to suit Stanley up better so he looked more human. He put on a cadet hat and re-polished his worn UNSC armour.

"Well……you can still tell you're not completely human," Master Chief said as he sat on a bench and watched Stanley as he modeled for him.

"Am I _that_ obvious?" Stanley inquired. "Oh! You know, if you could find me a gas mask or something to hide my face with. I could be the Christmas 'doughboy'."

"Gee, covering your face would definitely hoodwink them _completely_. I don't even think they'd notice the tentacles sprouting from your wrist or the things coming out of your chest."

"C'mon! _That'll_ wake some Devildogs up."

"Again, no."

"Hey, wait! Who am I?" Stanley chuckled as he held his fists halfway to his hips and glared at the Spartan. "Ahm too pretty ta die! Where's mah KFC?! Chief, don't eva pay for sex!"

"……Oh dear God, you're Johnson aren't you?"

"Damn right I am! Where mah black people at on this ring?!"

"Yeah, yeah, that's enough, let's just get moving. The Marines should be asleep by now, it's almost nine thirty and bunk time is nine."

They crept up to level one. The Master Chief saw no visible presence on his HUD and they continued moving swiftly and silently. They slid and down the hallway and stopped at the first barrack.

"This is stop number one," the Chief hissed as he slowly opened the door. There were roughly seven Marines in their beds, all sleeping in makeshift cots, while visions of alcohol and Covenant slaughter danced in their heads. There wasn't a whole lot in this room, only a few lights and trimmings, so the whole task took only a moment or two as shadows of Spartan and Flood origin did loom.

"Damn……I feel like the ultimate nightmare or the Boogeyman or something," Stanley whispered to the Chief.

"Stanley, the Flood is _made_ of nightmares and the spirits of hidden monsters."

"I_ really am_ the monster who came out of the closet," the Flood chuckled.

They stuffed everything in heavy duty sacks, and were off in minutes, the UNSC's decorations on their backs.

"Well, that went over much easier that I thought it would," the Chief said as they exited the first set of barracks.

"You hit the next room and I'll get the third," he told Stanley. They both went about their tasks, Stanley managing to climb through a vent in the ceiling above them. He slide through the ventilation, a rather tight space loaded with dust and crud, but if Santa could do it……so could the Flood. He got stuck only once for a moment or two……actually, I take that back, make "for a moment or two" "quite a few".

"Damn it!" Stanley cursed as he tried to yank himself out of the end of the vent in the second barrack while still remaining as silent as possible. He grouped around the outside of the circular vent, found there was nothing to grab on to, and just used his arms to try and pull himself out. He managed to do it after three tries. Then he shot out easily, tumbling to the floor. He remained completely still, even in the weird position he was in as a Marine stirred. He turned over in his cot and continued snoring. Stanley sighed in relief. "God, if I weren't such a heavy PAM drinker, I probably would have made it through no problem," he told himself as he picked up his sack and got to work.

The Master Chief, of course, had no problem getting in and out of the third chamber with the Christmas stuff. _The barracks seemed slim pickings so far_, he thought to himself. Perhaps the bigger stuff was near the Master Control Room. He had waited around for Stanley for only three minutes, before the Flood emerged from the dark room.

"Let's press on," the Chief said, nodding towards the next wing.

They continued still, through each of the doors, they didn't stop until they left nothing, nichts, nil. They took everything they could, the gruesome twosome. They took trimmings and tinsel, ornaments and lights, they took stockings and holly even knick-knacks as they continued through the night. Swiftly they sneaked, stealing all that was Christmas through each room in the base, they left barracks dark and dreary, in hopes that the holiday they soon would erase.

Just when they thought they had taken everything they could, until they spotted the great evergreen in the lobby. Robbed of its splendors it most certainly would, until Master Chief and Stanley grew bored of their hobby.

"Whoa……take a look at _that_," Stanley said.

"……It's going down," the Master Chief agreed.

They jammed their sacks through a window to drop to the ground below with glee, "And now," Master Chief ordered, "We'll launch out the tree,"

In hopes to get rid of it no matter what broke, they both seized the tree in wild fury, they shoved and strained like two oxen in a yoke, they heard someone coming so they had to hurry! But before they were able to get the huge tree out of the window, they heard the sounds of footsteps start to grow. Panicking and pushing they struggled to win, but they were caught by Lieutenant McKay, in her hand a glass of gin.

"Chief? Wudder you doin' with er tree?" she drawled, her balance already unsteady, the two had to think up an excuse quick, but they weren't ready.

"Um……" he answered, looking at Stanley for some assistance, hoping that McKay wouldn't put up a resistance.

"We're not doing anything with it. We're just……um……making sure that it's still lit," he lied.

"Yeah, some of the lights had gone out, so we're gonna fix it, that's what we're about," Stanley added.

"Oh……okay. Howya doin' Johnson?" she was still drawling, as she made a move to catch herself from falling.

"……Fiyne!" Stanley said.

"Okay, I'munna leave now," she said, stumbling down the hallway back to her assigned room.

"She's gone. Can we please stop rhyming now?! It's pissing me the fuck off," Stanley ask-manded from the Master Chief.

"Yeah, I'm not too thrilled with it either," he said as he grabbed the trunk of the tree and threw all of his weight against the huge plant. It sailed to the bottom of the canyon, where they faintly heard the shatter of glass and the _whumpf!_ of the landing.

"Two down, one to go. We still need to fine the gingerbread house," Chief said.

"We're so evil……I love this," Stanley said as they high-fived.

The Master Chief went on ahead, ordering Stanley to stay behind and take care of the rest of the decorations in the large, open room. He carefully entered the Central Intelligence Room, stepping in as quietly as possible.

"My name is Captain Keyes, what are _you_ doing up, Chief?"

_Oh no_, _the Old Man is still up for some reason_, he thought.

"I uh……just wanted to do a final walk around to make sure……that—"

"—My name is Captain Keyes, you wanted to make sure Santa Claus could get in safely without getting ambushed by Flood or Covenant! My name is Captain Keyes, aw, isn't that sweet, you've finally found the true meaning of Christmas!" he said as he hugged the Master Chief.

"Exactly, sir, now……why don't you get off to bed?" he suggested, putting one arm around him half-heartedly.

"My name is Captain Keyes and there's no way I could sleep now! My name is Captain Keyes, I just had _four_ glasses of eggnog and that stuff keeps me goin' for hours! My name is Captain Keyes, oh eggnog, oh Christmas, oh life!" he said loudly.

Master Chief knew there was only one thing to do. He slowly drew the M6D pistol from it holster, gingerly approached the Captain from behind, and gently pistol whipped him in the back of the head. Keyes went down like a rock, slurring, "My name is Captain Keyes, burnin' ring of fire," as he collapsed. The Master Chief propped him up in a chair to make it look like he collapsed from exhaustion. After setting the Captain up as accurately as possible, he made a quick sweep off the room……he found the gingerbread house on the center table. It was sitting in the space between a map of Halo and a computer, just sitting there, teasing him, taunting him……jesting at him for all it's worth about his detest for Christmas. The Chief immediately glared, lifted it up off of its foundation, and carried it out of the room.

_He_ had won this battle.

Meanwhile, Riley's party had actually been somewhat of a success. He had gotten a few compliments on the décor, a few on the idea of inviting not only Elites, and many on the cookies he had made. While making a quick walkthrough to make sure everything was still in order, he noticed that there were no cookies left.

"Wow……I'm such a good cook," he said with a giggle as he picked up the "Santa's Workshop" themed plate. He was about to run back to his sleeping quarters to get the other batch he'd made in case there weren't enough, when he was pulled over by Zuka 'Zamamee.

"Hey 'Bodensee! Got a unit?" he drawled loudly.

"Uh, yeah, I do," he said with a smile.

"'Kay, good, come with me," he said as he grabbed Riley by the wrist of his gauntlet and dragged him out of the hall and into corridor directly to the right.

"What's with all the privacy, Zee?" Riley inquired, cheekily looked at him from over the top of his taped, horn-rimmed glasses.

"Well……ya know, I been doin' some surreous thinkin' lately—" he started, trying to fight the hitch in his voice.

"—Oh?"

"—Yeah……'bout you." He smelled heavily of alcohol.

"Me? Why me? You don't like me that much." Riley said with a shrug.

"Oh, yep, see, thass not true……" 'Zamamee answered.

"Well, I know you'd rather hang out with some aristocrat Sangheili or someone of higher rank—"

"—Not azaktly."

"……Really?"

"Yeah. See……I thought it over dozens of time, even assed a few other Sangz fur help on decidin' 'n……I love ya!" he said with a drunken chuckle and a shrug.

Riley cocked his head to the side, like he always did when he was confused.

"I can't deny myself anymorelonger," 'Zamamee said.

"……Psh, that sounded _so_ emo. So what about with me?" Riley asked, butchering 'Zamamee's confession.

'Zamamee rolled his eyes, then grabbed Riley and gave him an enormous, lung-deflating hug.

"By the rings! Wur gonna have sooo much fun! We kin like, get house somewhere and we kin be like, have more alcohol! It'll be _fun_ Riley, _Riley_……it'll be _fun_!" he explained, pulling Riley closer during the last part of his speech, as to make it a secret?

"So, we're partners now?!" Riley asked excitedly.

"I don' think you undurstand, Mitch……we are _partners_ now, _okay_?! You have—you have a _commitment_ to make to me and yer gonna hafta get a _job_ and _work_, cuz that's what you do……in a life."

"I'm a soldier……that's a—"

"—Holy _fuck_! I am _soooooo_ shithammered! By the Prophets! Look at me, jus' look at me! Dude, there is _no way_ I kin drive home tonight," he said loudly.

"Zuka?" Riley asked, getting his attention again. "Wanna start 'jawing' with me?!"

"Oh-kay, look……I don't know you. _But_, because you're cute, what the fuck?" 'Zamamee said, loosing his balance, but luckily, having Riley there to catch him.

At that most inconvenient moment, "Canundrum" had just come out for a breather. He had walked just a little too far and stood in front of the archway that led to the corridor. Marshall had just taken a long swill from his third "TerroriZOR", when he noticed commotion from in the hallway. When he looked over to see just what it was, he growled loudly. Tightening his grip on his bottle, the noise of the shattering glass startled both Riley and 'Zamamee as they both looked over. Riley's eyes widened as they locked with "Canundrum's"……Zuka, however, was unfazed.

"Marshall! This, um……that's not with it looks like," Riley tried to explain.

"……'Ey! Pickit up!" Zuka said to him. "Don't be so clumsy, the Forerunners frown 'pon that."

"Canundrum" glared icily at the black-armoured Elite. "_You_ pick it up," he spat sourly. He turned and sauntered lethargically down the hall to the sleeping quarters.

Riley tried to break free of 'Zamamee's grip, but it wasn't working to well.

"I—I, I have _no_ idea who that is, but he's got _no_ respect for the people who make bottles," he told Riley, looking at the one in his hand curiously. "Those guys work _really_ hard."

"I'm sorry," Riley answered. "I really need to talk to him."

'Zamamee sighed and rolled his eyes as he grabbed onto one of the many random light panels nestled in the corners of corridors on the ship, and helped himself off of Riley. Riley ran down the hall after Marshall.

"Marshall! _Marshall_!" he called out as he caught up with him in units. "Marshall, what's the matter?"

"……Call me 'Canundrum'," he said bitterly. Riley was taken aback. He was the only one he ever let call him by his first name.

"Okay……'Canundrum'……what's wrong w—"

"—Look! I've been trying to tell you _all day_ that I was madly in love with you, and every time I tried to communicate with you, you shrugged me off!"

"I was _busy_, 'Canundrum'! Didn't you see how trashed Zuka is? The guy can barely stand!"

"But you couldn't take five units out of your life to let me tell you 'I love you'? You know what, I don't care anymore. You're too cocky and you're _way_ too conceited. I don't think I could live with a Sang like that anyway," he said, his voice wavering a little.

"Hey! I _may _be on the odd side, I may even be eccentric, but I _always_ put my family and friends before everything!"

"You know, I'm through arguing about this. I don't want to talk to you," he said, pushed Riley out of his way and stalked down the hall. Riley just stood and watched him go. He hung his head in great sorrow. 'Zamamee came over and put an arm around Riley. He gently looked up and took Zuka's arm off of his waist.

"With all respect and as much as I like it, I-I need to be alone for a few units," he said. "I'm going to get more cookies!" he half-sobbed. 'Zamamee teetered precariously as he tried his best to stand straight. Letting the alcohol get the best of him, he finally passed out near the door.

There was a hefty clatter as Stanley kicked out the grating to the air duct to the rookie Elite quarters.

"Good job……you're gonna wake up the whole ship," the Master Chief snarled.

"Hey! Like _you_ could have done better? I've been practicing this trade for like, three years. I'm a professional at sneaking into places via air-ducts, sewer pipes, or any other unsavory tunnel," Stanley snapped quietly.

"Whatever. Let's just get the stuff before someone catches on," Master Chief said as he crawled out and jumped down to the floor. Stanley was close behind him, holding the sacks. "Bingo," Chief said as he eyed Riley's Christmas tree by his cot at the end of the right row of beds, closest to them.

"He's got luminaries and shit too," Stanley added.

"……What are we waiting for?" Master Chief said, turning his head a fraction and looking at Stan from out of the corner of his eye. He strode towards the tree angrily, eager for the tantalizing plant to get its just rewards.

"Hey……what's this other stuff?" Stanley asked, pointing to some Rutluk symbols on the wall and hanging from the high ceiling.

"What?" the Master Chief asked, ceasing his attempt to get the tree out of its stand to look at what the Flood was pointing at. "……Roo, wait, Root—"

"—Sound it out," Stanley encouraged.

"I _can read_, thank you very much……smartass," the Master Chief grumbled as he continued to study the word in the center of an intricate hieroglyph. "Rutt-loook," he finally said, pronouncing it a different way a few different times.

"Oh, yeah, Rutluk……I forgot all about that," Stanley said.

"What the hell's a Rutluk?"

"It's the major Covenant holiday. Patrick told me about it. But see, back at our base, since we're still run by Nazis, you're only allowed to be Christian and—"

"—Okay, I don't care anymore. We're taking this Covie crap too," he ordered, yanking a hieroglyph made of a purple, tinsel-like material off of the wall and tossing it in a sack. He then went back to the tree, his main objective.

Riley meandered through the hall feeling completely mournful. He had no idea that Marshall felt that way about him. He did know that he had _som_e sort of feeling for him……but he didn't even get to chose between the two. His mind was in total chaos. 'Zamamee was enormously attractive, tall, muscular, and had a crush on him, a _drunken_ crush on him. On the other hand, 'Nordsee was very sweet, mysterious, and caring. It was pretty much a looks vs. attitude choice. Riley came to the conclusion that he might actually have to sit down and think about this when he had more time.

"I didn't even get my first kiss," he said, sounding downtrodden.

He came upon his sleeping quarters, and when he arrived and the automatic doors slid open, he noticed that his tree, decorations, and all of the Rutluk stuff was missing.

"I've been tree-napped!" Riley shrieked, dropping the platter to the floor as he performed a flawless "Home Alone" face. He hurried over to his bed, frantically searching for all of his things. Nothing was left. The only thing he found that was remotely close to decorations was some hooks and wire on the wall left from the hieroglyphs or Christmas riggings.

"_Gotta finga_!" he hollered, his voice echoing in the vast room. "Wull, I can't worry about this _now_. I've still got, aw, man……I've got to tend to my party," he said with an angry grunt-sigh as he switched plates with the empty one for the one loaded with sugar cookies that sat on his bedside table. He left the quarters weaving a tapestry of obscenities as he stormed out the automatic doors.

He arrived back at the party not long after. He stood in front of the automatic door, but it didn't open.

"That's odd," he said to himself. He lifted his glasses from in front of his eyes, took a few steps back, and peered at the panel, the light was red. Not green, which indicated it being open. He knocked on the door and waited several units. No one answered. He knocked harder. Still no answer. He banged on the door with a fist as hard he possibly could, without dropping the cookies. No one came to his assistance.

"Uh, guys?! Anyone! James? Hanjk? Zuka? Pat?!" he called out. He could hear all the rowdiness from outside and knew there was no way he was getting in anytime soon. Riley threw himself against the door and hollered.

"Oh……_there_ you are, Zuka," he said, noticing the passed out Elite on the floor. "Guys! Come on now! I'm _kinda_ locked outta _my own party_! Hello? _Hello_?!" No one came still, even after all the noise he tried to make. He sighed angrily and kicked the door. Defeated, he shook his head and walked back to his sleeping quarters. "I'm gonna walk down these halls thirty thousand times tonight," he grumbled to himself. He decided to take the long way though, just in case he ran into someone who could get him inside, and it gave him more time to think.

With the help of Stanley and his ability to shimmy up tall places that would normally take longer to get to, they went from room to room quietly, taking everything that involved Rutluk.

"Damn," the Master Chief said, marveling at his Floodlike skills.

"I know, like a spider, right?" Stanley said as he dropped down from a high wall.

"Like a big, ugly, infected spider with minus four legs," the Chief corrected.

They paused between rooms to light the sacks on fire and toss them out of the ship. Any Covenant soldier who caught them was immediately disposed of rather quietly as they were either pistol whipped, Master Chief'd, or gagged and locked in a utility closet or room after being told, "this is gonna hurt you more than it hurts me"……classic.

"We're almost done. Just this and the Senior Elite quarters," the Master Chief said as they entered the Zealot Elite quarters. The hallway was long and had quite a few rooms.

"Zealots tend to be pretty religious, so, be wary," Stanley said as they began their work, the Master Chief entering the first room and Stanley the second.

Riley was just passing by the Major Elite quarters, when he noticed the door was opened a crack. He backed up and peered in, and to his utter surprise, he saw Marvin sitting on his bed, head resting in his hand, and looking thoroughly lonely. Riley knocked on the door gently. He saw Marvin immediately sit up straight, put a grim look on his face, and reply "come in" in his deep, threatening voice. Riley put both hands between the slightly ajar door and gently applied pressure until it slid open normally. The door to the soldier's quarters stuck sometimes because they were so frequently used. Marvin's stoic warrior features dropped back to lonely looking ones.

"Oh……what are _you_ doing here?" he sneered.

"I was just passing by, I happened to notice you looked kinda somber, and I wanted to know why," he said.

"I am _not_ somber. Why would you say such a stupid thing like that?"

"……Could it be the heavy sighing, your depressed features, and the fact that you're here all alone?"

Marvin lowered his head. "Well……I have been feeling a little apathetic of late."

Riley approached him and the door shut behind him. "Here," he said holding the plate of cookies out to the crimson-armoured Elite. "Have some cookies, they'll make you feel better."

"……_Solid_ food?"

"Come on now, you _know_ you want one. I was up all last night making them," Riley said in a teasing voice as he held them under the other soldier's face.

"……Thanks," Marvin sighed as he took the plate and placed it on his bedside table. Riley sat down on his bed next to him.

"How come you weren't at my party?"

"I was not invited."

"Come now! _Everyone_ was invited to my party," Riley corrected. "I also kinda figured you wouldn't come because you don't like me."

Marvin looked up at him. Riley quickly moved his attention to the room. He looked at the tall, church-peaked ceiling. "The Major Domo quarters are a lot cozier than the rookie quarters. Feels more relaxing," he said with a nod.

"Why are you doing this?" Marvin questioned dully.

"Doing what, my dear?" Riley answered, turning his attention to the other Elite.

"_This_. Why are you spending time with me?"

"……Because. _No one_ should be alone on Christmas. Not even boasty, control-freak Sangheili," he said with a cheeky smile.

Marvin shot him a cold glare and then he smiled. "Does the same thing go for eccentric, nerdy Sangheili?"

"Indeed it does," Riley said.

Both Elites started chuckling.

"You know……thanks, for earlier," Marvin said.

"For earlier? What did I do?" Riley asked, tilting his head to one side.

"……For making your only Christmas gift for me to be happy," Marvin answered.

"Oh……you heard that? But, I never heard you come in the minor quarters."

"I sneaked in when you were writing your letter because I was going to start teasing you, but I changed my mind."

"……Because you're sweet and secretly don't hate me?"

"No! Because……you did something nice for me, and uh……karma," Marvin retorted, turning the other way. "Bad things happen to me all the time. I guess it is because I act like a jerk to everyone. It is just……I do not know……well my promotion, I—"

"—It feels good to be higher up on the food chain?" Riley stated.

"Yes. Exactly that. It is the leadership corruption that gets to your head. You are lucky. The lower-classes fight and argue over who gets to be in your squad. None of the Sangheili, or even the other soldiers for that matter, wish to be near me."

"That's based solely on the fact that I'm a complete failure and just screw around when I'm supposed to be part of the Covenant Military," Riley said with a shrug.

"I never wanted to be a soldier……"

"You're kidding! Me either. But, psh, you can tell."

Marvin chuckled. "Yes. I wanted _sooo_ desperately to be in the Covenant Imperial Marching Band with you and 'Zamamee and the other Sangheili."

"Really?! Wull, gee, I never knew you wanted to be in the marching band! What instrument do you play?"

"Sure I did. More than anything. I play the trombone."

"Wow……I _did not_ know that. Hey! I'm thinking about getting a few other Sangs to form a jazz little thing with. You wanna be in it?"

"Sure! I would love to! I mean……when I am not on military duty……why not?" Marvin said, immediately stiffening.

Riley let out a burst of joy that included a flail and a shriek of happiness. "Goody! I'm so excited! I love jazz music."

"So do I! Actually, I am more of a Big Band kind of Sangheili, I mean, it has better trombone parts."

"True. Of course, if you play saxophone, I don't care who you are, you have a soft spot for jazz, but hecks yeah! Superbly old human music p4wnz!" (Pronounced 'pawnz' this time around.)

Marvin managed to chuckle again.

"See?! I'm not as bad as you thought I was!" Riley said, nudging him.

"Well—"

"—C'moooooon!"

"……Okay. You are not a bad guy. I _am_ sorry for all of the asinine things I have said about you or to you in the past. I would take it all back if I could."

"……Aaawww!" Riley said as he grabbed the other Elite in a massive hug.

"Um……yes," Marvin said as he whole-heartedly returned it.

Riley grinned immensely while flailing in happiness. "So……what do you wanna do?"

"I do not know. How about a game of 'Battleship'?"

"Nice! I wanna be the blue team! I mean, hey, blue armour," he said with a laugh.

"Well, with respect. And hey, red armour," Marvin said as he tapped one of his gauntlets and reached underneath his cot. He pulled out the ancient box from under his cot and set it up on a card table near a corner of the room.

They played a total of three games, Marvin winning two. Riley forced him to make "boat being torpedoed" noises every time either of them sank a ship. They spent the rest of the time in deep, thought-provoking conversation mainly about getting to know one another, how the war sucks, how being a soldier sucks, and how jazz is awesome.

"So, yeah, I've been playing for about……oh……almost twenty units, give or take a unit," Riley explained. "My uncles and aunt weren't too excited that I was into human music, but I was fortunate enough to win over their support and the purchase of lessons."

"Yeah, I have been playing since I was about thirteen," Marvin said with a nod. "Brass kicks ass."

Riley laughed heartily. "That's _sooo_ good! Wow……yeah, I'm a reed guy, myself."

"I always thought reeds looked like a hassle."

"Well, here's the thing. They're easy to break, I'll tell you. Can't begin to count how many _I've_ gone through. They're annoying in the beginning when you know, you first start playing, but you get used to it."

"Ah. So, what does 'Zamamee play?"

"He plays Baritone Sax. He's _sooo_ good! A couple days ago, he denied ever being in Marching Band and said he stopped playing, but I convinced him otherwise. Now he's back and better than ever."

"Is that the really low one?"

"Yep."

"I thought so. Who else was in C.I.M.B.?"

"Let's see……me, 'Zamamee, 'Kasamee, 'Canundrum'……oh, it's been so long I can't even remember. Of course, they'll all probably deny it now. For some reason it's not 'cool' to be in band and be a soldier at the same time," Riley said, rolling his eyes with disgust.

"I think being able to play an instrument is such a rewarding ability," Marvin said.

"Absolutely!" Riley agreed. He looked over at the clock on the wall. "Wow! I gotta get back to my party! I had no idea it was _this_ late! They're gonna be wondering where the heck I went," he said as he got up from Marvin's cot. They were sitting on top.

"Well, thanks……for spending time with me. You got exactly what you wanted for 'Christmas'," he said, performing "air-quotes".

"What's that?" Riley asked.

"……I am happy," Marvin said with a smile. Riley grinned as well. "For once in years I am actually, truly, honest-to-Prophet happy."

"I'm _sooo_ glad. And I'm so glad I got to know you better. You're a good guy. I hope we can put all of our past feuding behind us," Riley said.

"Well……actually, I'm gonna to have to revert to making fun of you and avoiding you when I'm around friends or high-ranking officers. Sorry, but I have to keep appearance up. Thanks again and happy holidays!" Marvin said as he gently hurried Riley out of the Major quarters.

"……What?" Riley said in a melancholy and confused tone. He shook his head and began down the hall gain. "Well, it was worth a try. At least I got what I wanted for Christmas," he shrugged.

He arrived at his party soon after. Riley noticed the passed out Zuka was still there by the door and shook his head. He knocked roughly on the door again. This time, it actually opened, but he didn't expect to see the image on the other side. All of the Covenant party-goers were huddled up against the left wall in a corner, fear-stricken. Stanley was holding a rocket launcher and arguing intensely with Big Pat. The Master Chief was there too. He was yanking and pulling lights and branches off of Riley's second Christmas tree. All of his decorations were destroyed, burnt, or missing, except his record player and the LPs.

"What the flim-flam is going on?!" he demanded, striding into the room angrily. Everyone stopped what they were doing to focus their attention on Riley.

"Riley! Thank God you're here!" Big Pat said, rushing over to him. "This _bastard_ and Dave have _totally ruined Christmas_!"

"You had it comin' to ya, _bitch_!" Stanley yelled from across the room.

"……Wow……I'm _never_ getting married," the Master Chief said out loud as he pulled the last of the lights off of the tree and stamped on the long strand with one of his heavy metal boots.

"What are you doing to my tree?!" Riley cried, sprinting over to his position.

"What's it look like I'm doing? I'm ruining Christmas……" Master Chief said, staring at Riley through his mirror visor. "I also ruined your little Covie holiday Riotluck or whatever it's called."

"Rutluk, ya filthy 'uman!" a loudmouthed Jackal hollered from the huddled mass.

The Master Chief whipped around, assault rifle in hand. The Jackal immediately shrank back into the group and hid as best he could.

"That's right, chicken boy," he said, slinging it over his shoulder again.

"But……but why? Why are you taking my Christmas tree……why?!" Riley whined.

"For _too long_ have I had to put up with this 'Christmas'. It's the same thing every year! All the Marines do is make their own libations and get piss-drunk! I'm tired of if! I'm sick of joy, I'm sick of gatherings,_ I'm sick of holidays_," he said loudly, breaking part of the tree with every pause in the sentence.

Riley looked over to Stanley, a look of immense disappointment and depression on his features. "Stanley? Do you feel the same way?"

"Actually, mine's for a different reason……" he said, shifting his weight to his other hip. He again told the story of his mother's affair. One of the Grunts cried, Big Pat was still cross with him, and Riley and the rest of the Covenant were weirded-out. The Master Chief ignored the story twice around and set fire to the broken remains of the spruce.

"That's the whole ship……ready to hit it, Stanley?" Chief said, dusting his hands off, trying to rid them of the sap.

"Yep. I need to get back to the base and take a nap. C'mon, Pat!" he said, slinging the rocket launcher over his shoulder as he followed the Spartan out the way they came.

"……Yes, Stanley," he answered, sauntering behind him.

"Our ride should be here in like, two minutes," Master Chief added.

Riley went over and knelt by the smoldering ashes of the burnt Christmas tree. "All my hard work……all my preparation. All I wanted to do was get everyone together and spread some joy," he said sorrowfully as he looked up at the party-goers. "Canundrum" looked undecided and reluctant, but he emerged from the group and knelt by Riley. He put an arm around him.

"I thought you weren't talking to me," Riley said.

"……Well……nobody should be sad on Christmas," he said quietly. Peter, James, and Hanjk also came over and sat next to him.

"Figures. _The demon_ ruined everything," Peter said spitefully.

"He's _not_ a demon," Riley said, still focused on the ashes of the tree. "……Let's all go get some rest. It's late and it's been a busy night," Riley said, standing up.

"On-neeeeeehstly, Masta Chief. I don't know whaaaaaaaaiiiiiiy ya gotta be needin' a ride so laaaaaate in the night!" Foehammer said over her shoulder.

"All for good Covenant killing intentions," he said, checking both his weapons. Stanley and Big Pat were sitting on the opposite side of the Pelican.

"……I don't tell you this enough, but, you look cute in your Marine armour," Big Pat finally said, not looking in Stan's direction.

"It's pretty much what I was wearing before, but I added a few things. There isn't much I don't look cute in," he answered.

"……Stanley?"

"What?"

"……Let's not fight on Christmas," Pat said, finally facing his direction.

"Well……okay. If you insist," he answered. Stanley tackled Big Pat and he fell back on the rest of the cushioned seats. Stan knelt above Pat and began to unbuckle his belt.

"Hey, guys," the Master Chief said.

"What?" they both answered, looking over to him.

"Want to give me a present?" he asked.

"Okay!" Big Pat said enthusiastically.

The Master Chief aimed his assault rifle at them, in which they both gave a small cry of surprise. "……Don't be queer in front of me."

"Fine! Fine, honestly," Stanley said, pulling his pants back up.

"Oh, actually, my host body was a Sangheili, so……I'm not gay, technically," Pat explained.

"Whatever."

"ETeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeA two minutes, Masta Chief!" Foehammer said thirty minutes later.

"Roger," he answered.

"Who's with you?"

"Two Privates."

"Ooooooooh-kay!"

She landed the Pelican back in its pad minutes later. She jumped out of the cockpit just as the Master Chief was exiting off the ramp.

"Thanks again, Foehammer," he said.

"Noooooo problem, Chief! Now can I pleeeeeease get some sleep?! Tomorroooooow's Christmas!" she exclaimed, entering the base. He waited until she was inside and an additional five minutes before climbing back up the ramp, sealing it, and heading for the pilot's chair.

"Next stop, alien death," he said to the Floods as he restarted the dropship.

"You know……the Master Chief isn't here to complain……" Stan said to Big Pat.

Echo 419 landed in the thick, muggy swamp thirty minutes later. The area was humid and foggy, a severe climate difference from their previous location. The Master Chief brought the mighty dropship down and landed. He got up from his seat and as soon as he turned around, his efforts were rewarded with the sight of Stanley without any clothes on, on top of Big Pat. He shielded his eyes and backed into the pilot's chair again.

"Please! Make it stop!" he said.

"Homophobe," Stanley whispered harshly, getting up and commencing the dressing sequence. The Spartan lowered the ramp and leaned casually against the control.

"Hey, what are we doin' here?" Big Pat asked.

"I'm dropping you off."

"Why? I thought we were going with—"

"—The last part of my plan doesn't involve you. You can stay here." With that, he saluted, raised the ramp, and steered the Pelican up-spin and over their heads.

"Oh God……I've got a feeling that this isn't going to be good……" Stanley said.

"……Don't Ivan and Jared have a Longsword?"

"……They have _everything_. Let's saddle up."

"Get up!" Riley heard as someone routinely shoved him out of his bed, like everyday when he got ready for battle. Scrambling around on the floor for a second and then groping around his bedside table for his glasses, he looked up and saw a gold-armoured Elite towering above him.

"What time is it?" he asked, adjusting his spectacles.

"The fourth cycle. Don't question. Get your armour on and follow the rest of the troops. This is urgent," with that, he held himself in a hug and made his way out of the quarters. Riley was highly confused as he scrambled and put his armour in place.

"What the heck? Why are we getting up so early?" Riley asked of another Elite as he placed his helmet on his head.

"We intercepted a human message that said 'the Demon' was going to detonate their ship and try to destroy the sacred ring!" he growled. "The Ship Master said that all of the troops be ordered either to head him off at the downed vessel or to escape off of the ring."

Riley was taken aback at the news. He knew that the Dave was trying to ruin Christmas and Rutluk, but he was unaware that he was trying to ruin everyone's _life_. He exited with the other soldiers and hung around for a moment until someone he knew well passed by. Luckily, "Canundrum" appeared.

"'Canundrum'!" he called out, pushing his way past the crowd. "Canundrum" looked away. "……What? Are you reverting back to giving me the cold shoulder? Make up your mind!"

"It's not 'Christmas' anymore……"

"Actually, yeah, it is. It's Christmas _day_. Last night was Christmas _Eve_."

"……"

"Look, that thing with 'Zamamee last night……he was drunk, we both know that. He fell over on me."

"Canundrum" looked back at Riley, whose features were ridden with sadness and confusion. "……Fine. I'll give you another chance. But only because I still like you."

"Thanks, 'Canundrum'."

"……You can call me Marshall, if you want."

'Zamamee appeared next to Riley a few seconds later, massaging his temples. "Man, what _happened_? How much did I drink?"

"Oh, 'Zamamee!" Riley said with a laugh. "Canundrum" shot him a harsh glare. "Okay, look. What are we going to do about this? I _really don't_ wanna go and fight Dave on a human rocket ship!"

"Riley, we've got almost no choice. What do you expect us to do?"

Riley thought about this, then thought about all the connections he had. "Juliano……" he said, snapping his fingers.

"Juliano? What about him?"

"We need to get to him _right now_! He can take us to the human ship where we can try to head off Dave!" he explained, pulling out his communications gear. He tuned into the dropship pilot's channel and found Juliano's freq.

"Hello……?" he droned, ending his sentence with one of his signature door-hinge-that-needs-oiling noises.

"Juliano! Have you left the docking station yet?!" Riley hollered.

"No, _honestly_……no need to shout……"

"Good! Don't leave yet! And don't let any soldiers get on your boat!"

"Why not? I have to. Those are the orders……"

"I don't care! We are _trying_ to save the world……and by 'world' I mean this ring thingy, so just cooperate and _don't_ take orders from anyone else!"

"Well……if you're positive that it'll benefit the rescue of this ring, then okay……"

"Awesome! We'll be right there!" Riley said, keying off his communications gear. "We need to get down their _now_," he told his friends, who followed close by as he took off down the hall. Most fortunate for Riley, they managed to run into Hanjk, Peter, and James, who tagged along as well.

The arrived at the docking station before anyone else was there. Rigorous roll-call and inspections had to be carried out before any of the soldiers left. Juliano was standing in the doorway to the cockpit so they could spot him easily. He waved the group over and they all dashed inside.

"Let's make like a tree and go!" Riley said as he grabbed the back of Juliano's pilot chair.

"It's 'leaf'……make like a tree and 'leaf'," 'Zamamee corrected, choosing a seat on either sides of the pilot.

"_Whatever_!" Riley sighed. Juliano thrust the ship into gear and drove it expertly through one of the energy fields.

The Pelican thundered through the endless arid, desert area. The shadow looming over the land that zoomed underneath it. The Master Chief smiled to himself, it felt good to be finally ridding the ring of Christmas _and_ the Covenant. Surrounding the downed _Pillar of Autumn_ was an array of Covenant aircrafts, an oncoming human ship might be somewhat startling and unexpected to the alien troops on guard.

The Spartan, noticing that the fuel gauge on the Pelican was almost empty, chose one of the lifeboat bays that lined the side of the ship to board. He put the dropship in automatic and rose from his seat. Shouldering his weapons, he lowered the ramp and waited for the bay to come closer. Just as the ship whizzed by the bay, he leaped out "Bond style" and grabbed a hold of the side of the bay. The tank ran out of fuel, stalled, and began to plummet to the rocks below.

"Wonderfully executed, Bond. But you'd think there was an easier way to get aboard," Cortana complimented.

"Yeah, I'm getting tired of doing this," he commented. "At least I don't have to deal with the Captain."

"We need to get to the bridge. From there, we can initiate an—"

"—Yeah, yeah, I know," the Master Chief said as he made his way toward the tiny air dock.

"Just go the same way we did with Keyes, sheesh," Cortana advised.

It was a short distance to the burned out-bridge where another Covenant security team was on duty. Word had been passed: The human was aboard the dead _Autumn_. However, being bored out of their minds and delirious from lack of sleep, they were idling. A black-armoured Elite was standing in a corner facing the wall and laughing uproariously, another was laying on top of a broken control panel and singing "the Peddler's Song" from "Oliver!" softly to himself, and yet another was laying on his side on the ground and turning around in a circle. There were two Grunts, one of which was humping the broken control panel the Elite was laying on. The other Grunt rushed up to him and started jumping up and down.

"Hey, hey! Look what I found!" he said, holding up a fork. The desperate Grunt looked upon it with favour.

"What is it?" he inquired.

"It is your mom!" the Elite said, snatching it out of the Grunt's hand, without looking, and whipping it across the room.

The Master Chief knew that it was his duty to put them out of their misery. He rolled a grenade into the bridge and heard the explosion. It took out all of the aliens as a chain reaction from the absurd amount of grenades they held went off. He strode into the room, "Valerie" at the ready just in case there had been more unseen aliens. Just when he thought it was all clear, another Grunt shot him in the back. The audible went off and the armour sought to recharge itself. He turned to his right, to an equipment cabinet. He reached out and pulled the door open. Sure enough, the Grunt was hiding inside. Staring at him blankly, it reached for the door and shut it again. The Spartan opened the door again, ripped the breather off of the assailant's face, and shut the door.

Listening to the wild pounding of the suffocating Grunt, the Chief made his way over to the spot where Captain Keyes had issued his orders. He pulled out the chip from the base of his helmet and inserted it in the cylindrical pedestal. Cortana appeared over the control panel in front of him.

"This won't take long—there. That should give us enough time to make it to the lifeboat and put some distance between us and Halo _before_ detonation."

The next voice the Master Chief heard belonged to 343 Guilty Spark, who has this fetish for ruining everyone's day, or life, or both. "_I'm afraid that's out of the question_."

Cortana groaned. "Oh, hell."

The Chief readied "Valerie" but saw no sign of the Monitor or his Sentinels. It didn't prevent his moronic rambling from entering his ears, though-the AI had tapped into his comm. system. "_Ridiculous_! _That you would imbue your war_-_ship's AI with such a wealth of knowledge_. _Wouldn't you worry that it might be captured_? _Or destroyed_? _Or captured_ _and_ _destroyed_?!"

Cortana frowned. "His in the data arrays—a local tap. You could do well to stop referring to me as an 'it', bastard."

"_You can't imagine how exciting this is_! _To have a record of all our lost time_. _Oh_, _how I will enjoy every moment of its categorization_! _To think that you would destroy this installation_, _as well as this record_……_I_ _am_ _shocked_! _Almost too shocked for words_."

"The key word there is 'almost'……" the Master Chief said.

"He's stopped the self-destruct sequence!" Cortana warned.

"_Why do you continue to fight us_, _Reclaimer_? _You cannot win_! _Give us the construct_—_and I will endeavor to make your death relatively painless and_—"

"—At least I still have control over the comm. channels," Cortana said.

"Where is he?" The Chief axed.

"I'm detecting taps throughout the ship. Sentinels, most likely. As far as the Monitor—he's in Engineering. He must be trying to take the core offline. Even if we _could_ get the countdown restarted……I don't know what to do."

"This is a first," he remarked.

"Don't push me, Chief……"

"……How much firepower would we need to crack one of the engine shields?"

"Not much," Cortana replied. "A well-placed grenade perhaps. Why?"

He produced a grenade painted green and red and tossed it once or twice in the air. "This'll be a 'Christmas' _no one_ will ever forget……much less remember."

"……Okay, I'm coming with you," Cortana sighed. The Spartan yanked the chip from the pedestal and inserted it into his helmet again.

"Chief! Sentinels!" Cortana cried as the machines appeared and attacked in unison.

"Well……here we are……the human ship……" Juliano concluded, landing the U-shaped boat near the rear of the _Autumn_. Riley and his posse climbed over each other as they tried to get a good look from within the cockpit of the dropship.

"Bloody 'ell!"

"Da-yum……"

"Whoa," were some of the responses to the _Pillar of Autumn's_ vast differences to the cruiser they were located on. They all exited, piling out of the dropship.

"Thanks a ton, Juli. Hey, could you do me one last favour?" Riley asked.

"Well……I guess……you've already gotten me in enough trouble……" Juliano answered.

"Would it hurt you terribly if I asked you to stay with the dropship?"

"……"

"……I think its best that you're on controls just in case something……goes—"

"—You don't want me to come……?"

"It's not that, it's just—"

"—You're _too_ valuable and we can't afford to lose the best pilot on the _Rice Cakes and Jesus Shoes_," 'Zamamee interrupted.

"Really? Oh, well……I don't know if I'm _the best_……" Juliano said.

"Poppycock! You're the best of the best and we need _you_ to be there for us in case Dave _does_ decide to ruin Christmas," Riley said, putting an arm around Juliano.

"Well……okay……"

"Excellence! All righty then. You stick around here and I'll call you on my radio if we need dust-off, 'kay?" Riley asked.

"Got it……"

"All right! We're cookin' with gas now! Let's crack this tin can open!" Riley said heroically as he grabbed a long piece of scrap metal and ran at the back of the _Autumn_.

"Whoa now! Where do you think _you_ are going, tiger?" 'Zamamee asked, grabbing the piece out of Riley's hand as he smacked into the ship.

"But I thought—we were—and the ship—and—"

"—Hold it, hold it, hold it……you've actually gotta think like a soldier in a situation like this," 'Zamamee ordered. "Besides, I'm hung-over and don't want you to make any loud noises."

"I do?"

"Yep. Now……you can't honestly look me in the eye and say striking this thing with a metal fragment was gonna to get you inside, can you?" he asked seductively.

"……It seemed like a good idea at the time……" Riley said to himself quietly.

"No……I suggest we find an entrance. If I remember correctly, on the sides of the ship, there are lifeboat bays in which the humans escaped from the ship after we boarded it—"

"—Wait! _You_ were with the convoy that attacked the human ship?!" Riley inquired.

"……Were have you _been_? I tried to explain my injury to you but you were too busy hitting on me."

"Well, can you blame me?" Riley corrected with a smile.

"Wouldn't an entrance from the lifeboat bays be some sort of cliché?" "Canundrum" suggested.

"_What_ are you talking about?" 'Zamamee snapped.

"I am _talking about_ the entrance. What if the Flood have taken over the ship and are swarming inside as we speak? Our weapons wouldn't be enough to overcome them."

"_I_ don't even _have_ a weapon!" Riley stated proudly as he threw his arms in the air.

"It seems that _you've _forgotten the _ten dropships_ worth of warriors that helped take over part of the ship as well. It's settled. We are entering through the lifeboat bays. Get your pilot to take us around the left side of the ship," 'Zamamee barked as he headed back towards the dropship. The misfit squad followed the Special Ops officer and boarded it once more.

Juliano took them around the ship and attached his boat to the lifeboat bays, the same way he had when the Covenant raided the _Autumn_ a few weeks earlier. "All ashore……" he droned as the group exited and found themselves looking around a bruised and broken _Pillar of Autumn_.

"Could use a cleaning job……or some wallpaper……or a cleaning-paper-wall-job," Riley said. He was rewarded with a confused stare from everyone. "……What? Are we gonna save the universe or what?" he added.

"Fine. We'll most likely need to get to what the humans call 'the bridge'. I think I remember where that is."

"Oh, you _think_?" "Canundrum" spat sourly.

"Hey, it's better than what _you_ could conjure up. Let's see _you_ take some action!" 'Zamamee demanded, pressing his face to the stealth Elite's. "Canundrum" remained silent. "……That's what I thought," 'Zamamee said, spitting onto the floor of the _Autumn_. He yanked his plasma rifle out of its holster and checked a corridor to the right. "Follow me!" he yelled, taking off down the corridor.

"……What a Sang," Riley said, taking off shortly after him. The rest followed suite.

"Dave! Oh, Daaaaaave!" Riley called out as they dashed about through the broken ship. "Where you at?!"

"Yo, Dave!" James helped out.

"Oi, Dave! Show ya'self!"

"Whatsa matter, demon? Scared?!"

"_Peter_, you're not helping! You're gonna make him keep hiding!" Riley said like a spoiled teenage girl.

"Fine! Fine," he answered, throwing his hands up in surrender.

"Shall we press on?" 'Zamamee questioned impatiently.

"Oh, sorry, love," Riley said as he did the international boss/manager "I'm watchin' you" gesture to Peter and the caravan took off again.

Soon after, they passed by a large, metal door, that was opened a crack, in which they heard voices from, familiar voices. Riley was the first to peer inside. He then dashed in rather loudly.

"Yo! What up mah Sangz?!" he hollered, making his presence known by running all the way up to where the Covenant Command Staff's leader 'Onotomee was standing. All of the Elites groaned at the same time.

"Just when I thought this Rutluk couldn't get any worse……" 'Ontomee said. Riley graced them with sixteen and a half seconds of pure, uninterrupted, staccato, machine-gun laughter. Many of the Elites sank back into the uncomfortably alien chairs.

"So, what are we doin', team Sangheelz?!" he asked loudly.

"We were _about_ to discuss the plans for the slaying of the special-armoured-human……" 'Ontomee said.

"So he _is_ here?! Good. C'mon, team! Let's blaze the trail and seize the day!" Riley yelled, punching a fist into the air, and then racing out the door again. 'Zamamee approached 'Ontomee and whispered something to him.

"Ah don' know 'oo that is……" Hanjk said, pointing to Riley.

"_I_ will take charge of the search-and-destroy mission. _I_ will bring back the human's head," he told the Command Staff leader.

"Excellent, 'Zamamee. Good luck and may the Prophets bless your mission," he said as 'Zamamee exited the former human shuttle room.

Having left the bridge after being assaulted by a trio of Sentinels, the Master Chief was headed to the Engineering wing of the ship, as Cortana had instructed. She figured that the easiest and quickest way would be to access the Engine Room via the cryo-chamber. Only problem was, it seemed everywhere he turned, he ran into locked doors, barricades of all sorts, and jammed hatches.

After moving through a dark room filled with weapons, he heard the sound of combat close by. He waited until it died down and slipped out of the corridor. Bodies lay all about as he slid along the corridor wall and heard the sound of someone freestyling near a cargo module. Two Hunters, just what he needed right now.

Lacking a rocket launcher, he was forced to use the only weapons of mass destruction he had: grenades. He pulled the pin on two, tossed them over the cargo module, saw a spined warrior go down, and heard the other roar, "What da hell, nigga?!" as he charged out from the cargo module.

The Spartan fired a round of bursts in hopes of slowing the beast down and gave thanks as the door closed as he backed through it. That gave him the three seconds he required to trigger another grenade.

The hatch opened, the grenade flew perfectly straight, and bounced off the lumbering alien's face. Shaking it off, he began for the human once more. The Hunter wasn't quick enough and a second explosion finished him off. After deliberately walking over the body to gain access to the next room, he saw blood-spattered bulkheads, bodies lying in every single posture of death, blown hatches, sparks emitting from junction boxes, and a series of small fires.

He began to hear the sound of automatic weapon fire and numerous battle instructions as he passed through another hatch. He was close to the cryo-chamber, or at least he thought he was. Hesitant to jump through a sea of flames, he decided on taking a right turn instead. The sounds grew louder as another hatch opened for him and he was graced with the sight of a room full of Flood combat forms scampering about engaged in a battle with a clutch of Sentinels. There were about three central figures in which the Master Chief assumed was the platoon's leaders, mainly by their attire, the loud orders being barked at the combat forms, and the eerie fact that he recognized some of them. He paused, shouldered his weapon, and joined in the fun. Sentinels crashed and burned, carriers exploded, and everyone fired at one another as plasma bolts, 7.62mm projectiles, and needles ricocheted off of the walls.

Once the robots had been put out for the count, most of the Flood had been neutralized. The task of reaching the ladder to the catwalk was fairly easy. From that vantage point, he could look across the cryo viewing theatre and see two more Sentinels emerging and working on a group of Flood. They weren't going to go without a fight. Being a spectator for a bit of the action, he noticed that _still_ even before a Flood soldier died, his last words all seemed to be, "Heil!" He worked his way down the catwalk and into the viewing theatre.

And _that_, he soon found out, proved to be a big mistake.

It didn't seem that bad at first, destroying the two Sentinels and then working on the Flood. But for every one combat form that he put down, it seemed that two more were right behind him, forcing him into the defensive.

He soon had to retreat to the antechamber adjacent to the viewing theatre. The Spartan had little choice but to press himself up against a locked hatch and keep firing. The larger forms came in twos and threes while the infection forms came in swarms. All of the assaults seemed coordinated as one, two, or three combat forms would hurl themselves inward, die under "Valerie's" thundering fire, and fall just as the Spartan ran out of ammo. He had to hand it to whoever was running the Flood show……they knew what they were dealing with.

He finally gave up on "Valerie" and brought out "the Clyde: Remastered", his newly acquired shotgun in the spirit of the one that had helped him weeks ago. He packed shells into the rifle just as a team of carriers waddled into the room. The Master Chief opened fire on the monstrosities before the ensuing exploding of their bodies could do any damage. Then it was clean up time as he moped up the teams of infection forms followed by an attempt to reload both weapons before the _next_ attack would come.

The Master Chief dropped into a patter of fire and movement. He made his way through the ship, closer to the engineering spaces.

The deafening noise made by both the weapons, the grotesque odor of the Flood, and the intense mental stress from all the killing was wearing him out.

After dispatching a Covenant combat team, he crouched behind a support strut and fed rounds into "the Clyde: Remastered". He had just jumped out from behind the support strut, when everything fell quiet. Not a thing in the room moved. He lowered his shotgun for a second, taking a good and thorough look around. No Flood, no Sentinels, no enemies. He shrugged and continued looking for a way to gain entry to the cryo-chamber. The Chief made his way through dozens of passageways, a maze of tunnels and chambers, and out into a corridor where he spotted a red arrow on the deck along with the words "ENGINEERING: THATAWAY".

_Finally_, he thought.

He passed through a hatchway and entered the only passageway he'd seen so far that wasn't loaded with bloodstains and corpses. A series of halls brought him to yet another hatch.

_I'm getting so tired of hatches_, the Master Chief thought.

"Engine Room located," Cortana announced. "We're here."

The Spartan heard humming and knew that 343 Guilty Spark was somewhere close. He started to back through a hatch when Cortana said, "Alert! The Monitor has disabled all command access. We can't restart the countdown. The only other option will be to detonate the ship's fusion reactors. _That_ should do enough damage to destroy Halo. Don't worry……I have access to all of the reactor schematics and procedures. I'll walk you through it. First, we need to pull back the exhaust couplings. _That_ will expose the shaft that leads to the primary fusion drive cores."

"……What? What about the……who are we talking about again?" the Master Chief said.

"This is going to be a _loooooong_ day……" Cortana said as he entered the Engine Room and was met by a combat form who elbowed him right in the visor.

"Face!" he yelled. The Master Chief made a grab for the monster, but he had already hobbled away. The Flood form stopped, thinking it was funny, when a half of a clip was unloaded into him. A red nav point pointed to a large ramp on the far end of the enormous room as he reloaded "Valerie".

He pounded up onto a raised platform, ran past a bank of controls, and ducked through a hatch that led up to Level Two. He followed those ramps up until he came to Level Three. Near the top, two combat forms fell to his fire. He absconded with the fallen creature's ammo and grenades and pressed on, ignoring the taunts from Guilty Spark.

"_Not acceptable_, _Reclaimer_. _You must surrender the construct_. _By the way_, _green is ugly_. _It's an ugly colour_."

He made his way up to Level Three and encountered a reception party composed of combat and carrier forms. He opened fire, took down two combat forms and one carrier, and then backed up to reload. After slamming a fresh clip in place, he opened fire again, cut another soldier off at the knees, tossed a frag grenade into the crowd, and blew the rest to shatters.

There were a few survivors, but quick bursts from "Valerie" were enough to ensure none lived through the Spartan onslaught. The Master Chief reached the far end of the passageway without any more trouble after that. A group of combat forms were waiting to greet him, but were served up some justice as he diligently made his way to the blood-slicked hatch at the top of the ramp.

As soon as he made it onto the Level Three catwalk, he took fire. There was complete disorder and chaos as Sentinels fired on Flood, Flood fired back, and everyone stopped to get a piece of Spartan. It was important to keep concentrated, so he made a mad dash for the nearest control panel, slapped the key that read "Open Me!" He heard a rewarding beep as well as Cortana's voice.

"Good! Step one complete! We have a straight shot at the fusion reactor! We need a cataclysmic explosion to destabilize the magnetic containment field surrounding the fusion cell."

"Oh, that makes _perfect_ sense," the Spartan said as he jumped onto the thick exhaust covering and felt it move. "I thought you said I had to throw a grenade into the hatch."

"Duh! What did I _just explain_ four seconds ago?"

"……I don't want to hear about it," he said as a brightly lit rectangular slot appeared and he tossed a grenade in through the opening. The ensuing explosion threw bits of charred metal around the blast site.

_One down and three to go_, the Master Chief thought as an array of laser beams hit his chest.

"You know……even though I got like, maybe, like, three or four cycles of sleep, I didn't see any sugar plums dancing in my head. I thought that was supposed to happen on Christmas. Then again, if I _did _see that, I might wig out," Riley rambled to the friends he thought were listening.

"What ah ya talkin' about?" Hanjk asked him.

"Psh, I'm just making conversation," Riley said in a huff. "Hey, Zuka?"

"Yes, Riley?" the Special Ops officer answered over his shoulder.

"Do you um, know where the hell we're going? Cuz, I sure don't," Riley asked, cracking his long neck in a bored manner.

"_Of course_ I do, doll," he answered arrogantly.

"Ooooooh-kay," Riley said quietly.

They arrived at the same red arrow that the Chief had left just before. "Ah-ha! See? _Told you_ I knew what I was doing," 'Zamamee said haughtily.

"It _probably_ could have taken us a lot shorter," "Canundrum" said to himself.

They passed through the series of tunnels and hatches until they came to the Engineering Room. They also spotted the Master Chief dashing up a ramp.

"Dave!" Riley shouted as loud as he could. The Spartan turned around and saw the troupe of Covenant misfits.

"Oh no……no, no, no, no, _no_," the Master Chief said. "What the hell are _you_ doing here?" he demanded.

"You!" 'Zamamee growled, clenching his fists.

"Now 'Zamamee, we're not going to do anything to Dave, he's a friend," Riley said with a laugh as he put an arm around the officer.

"_You're his friend_?! The human responsible for more than _six score casualties_ of _Covenant soldiers_?!" 'Zamamee inquired, überly enraged.

"Uh……yep, yep, that's him."

'Zamamee let out a sigh and stared blankly at the Spartan. "I should just kill myself right now."

"Do you remember me, Dave?" Riley questioned innocently.

"Yeah, most unfortunately. I remember all of you on some occasion. Especially _you_, panther," he said in 'Zamamee's direction.

"But you love _me_ most of all, _right_?" Riley corrected, pushing 'Zamamee out of his way.

"……Actually……I hate you."

"Boo……"

"Okay then. I'm going to finish what I started and……I _won't_ catch you later," the Spartan said as he saluted and headed back up the ramp to detonate the last fusion couplet.

"Wait! What are you doing? Are you still trying to ruin Christmas?" Riley asked, following him up the ramp, his posse tagging along behind.

"Yes. Now stop following me. Go on, shoo, get going," he said, waving them away like lost puppies.

"Why? Why are you trying to ruin Christmas……_why_? This war has been going on for _so long_, and all anyone wants is the comfort of home and some joy!" Riley pleaded as he followed the human up another set of ramps to Level Two.

"Apparently, you _don't _know what it's like to be on the same ship or base with Marines who are inebriated _all day_."

"Well no……but I know what's it's like to be with inebriated _and_ drugged up Elites _all day, every da_y."

"I don't care about you or your life."

"Please! All I'm asking is that you pull out from his mission and don't destroy Halo! Please! _Please_!" Riley said, collapsing to his knees and grabbing Master Chief around his armoured calves. Despite having a pleading Elite being dragged behind him, he managed to make it to Level Three relatively quietly. He had just pressed the "Open Me!" control on the panel and Riley still hadn't let go.

"Okay……you need to get off, _now_," he demanded, kicking the sobbing Elite off of him. He quickly jumped down on the exhaust cover, triggered a grenade, and threw it into the fusion generator. Everyone felt the shaft shake in sympathy as the last grenade detonated.

Cortana yelled in his ears. "That did it! The engines will go critical! We have fifteen minutes to get off the ship! We should move outside and get to the third deck elevator. It will take us to a Class Seven service corridor that runs the length of the ship. Hurry!"

"Uuuuuuh-oh," James said as everyone looked up and around frantically.

"_Now look what you've done_,_ David_! You're tearing us apart, you—you—you……_donut hole_!" Riley yelled, dropping to his knees and screaming to the heavens.

The Chief jumped back onto the Level Three platform, blasted a combat Flood who jumped in front of him and roared, and waved to the Covenant squad.

"See you guys in hell," he said as he backed through the hatch on the farthest wall.

"We have to follow him! Riley, call Juliano! We do not have any time to dick around!" 'Zamamee ordered as he yanked Riley up off of the ground and they all scampered through the hatch and ran the length of the corridor a ways behind the Master Chief.

"Juliano!" Riley hollered.

"Heidi-ho……"

"We need you to pick us up a lifeboat dock imme-je-at-ly!" Riley screamed into his radio.

"Okay, okay, calm down……I'm waiting for you……"

"Okay, do you have everything?" Stanley asked as he met Big Pat at the ramp into one of the Longswords which belonged to Ivan and Jared.

"Yep, I sure do," he answered, hopping up on the ramp and joining his significant other.

"You're sure? Because we won't be able to come back and get it," Stanley said with a faint chuckle.

"I'm absolutely sure."

"Okay. Excellent. Let's get the hell outta here," he said with a smile.

"Wait!" they heard someone scream. Both Floods whipped around and saw five other soldiers standing at the base of the ramp, one of them being a high-ranking SS officer.

"What do _you_ guys want?" Stanley said, leaning against the archway.

"……We want to come with you. We're sick of Ivan, we're sick of Jared, and we're sick of fascisms," the soldier who had called out to them said.

"And we don't wanna die!" another wailed.

Stanley rolled his good eye. "_Fine_! Do you have everything you need?"

"We're all ready, Stan."

"……Let 'em come with us, Stan," Big Pat said.

"I already said 'yes'. All right, get in," he said as he moved out of the way and the soldiers pounded inside, strapped in, and sat quietly.

Stanley had just taken a seat behind the controls and was about to initiate the takeoff, when they heard more voices.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!" they heard a particularly loud voice boom.

Both Stan and Pat looked out again and saw Commanders Ivan, Jared, and the rest of their Field Marshals approaching quickly. They stopped right where the ramp had been, it was partially shut.

"Where the devil do _you_ think _you're_ going, Private Stanley?! And in _our Longsword_?!" Ivan screamed.

Stanley leaned against the half-closed ramp and stared directly at the two tyrants cheekily. "Yeah, see, the _funniest_ thing happened. The one human who you were talking about has blown up his own downed ship and now, in about……seven minutes, the whole ring will explode as well, leveling your society and destroying totalitarian-fascist Flood ways forever. I'd invite you all to come along, but, seeing as I was never a fan of 'the Great Deluge' or racism, you guys can stay here and go down with the monster you've created. Besides, you were _awful_ in bed, Ivan. Bon Voyage," Stanley said as he, for once, saluted Nazi style with a gin.

"You slept with Private Stanley?" Ringsmarschal Hindenburg asked.

"Wort?" Jared inquired.

"……Well, it's a rather interesting story," Ivan said. "Look, in less than ten minutes, everything we've built, all the ideas we've created, and the army we've sculpted will be finished. _I say_, _I'm_ _not_ going to let some _genetic human freak_ be the downfall of Commander Ivan Flood! Suicide pact?" he asked Jared.

Jared thought for a moment. Although he was cross with Ivan, he had a point. He didn't ever want to die as a conquered Flood leader. "Suisride pract!" he agreed with a nod. Both of the leaders ran back to their quarters with the remaining Field Marshals.

Once inside, Ivan grabbed two small vials from inside a drawer in a desk, and tossed one to Jared. They both unscrewed the corks, locked arms "Brüderlein" style and stood poised to finished off the contents of the vials.

"On three, all right?" Ivan said.

"Yes."

"One……two……three!" he said. Both leaders stalled, refusing to tip back the vials.

"……Well……aren't you growing trew drew it?" Jared asked.

"……Aren't _you_?" Ivan retorted.

"……I wasn't ready."

"Okay……on three. One……two……three!" Neither of them drank again.

"What's goin' on?!" Papa Flood yelled from across the room.

"_God damn it_,_ shut up_! Just _shut up_ you feeble bastard!" Ivan shrieked. Papa Flood looked confused and taken aback.

"Seriously……on three."

"Okray."

"One……two……— "

An M6D blast rang out and echoed through the room, mingling with the other dim explosions coming from the ship and the ring. Ivan lay on the floor, a bullet pocket through his chest. Jared stood over his counterpart's prone form.

"……I almrost hate trew drew this trew you, on Christmras, but I never was a fran of racism, either. See you in hell," Jared said, holstering his gun and turning around. The other Flood of the War Department watched him with fear-stricken eyes.

"I've ridden the univrerse of a monstrer……a ty—" Jared never got the chance to insult Ivan to the highest degree, because the Flood himself rose up and blasted the Jared infection form right out of his host body.

Laughing maniacally, he pumped two more shells back into his shotgun's place. "Silly bastard……don't you know it takes _two_ shots to kill a Flood?!"

Riley and his platoon emerged into the sunlight of dawn. He shielded his eyes as he heard dull explosions coming from the _Pillar of Autumn_. Juliano was waiting for them as promised. A smile spread across his face as 'Zamamee led them to the ship. They all piled into the cockpit once more and Juliano took off like a bat out of hell. They sped up and out, as far away from the ring as possible.

The Master Chief rode aboard the gore-spattered lift as it carried him upward toward the service corridor above. Cortana took advantage of that moment to form a daring escape plan.

"_Cortana to Echo 419_, _come in Echo 419_!"

"_Raaaaaahger Cortana_,_ I read you fiiiiiive_-_by_-_fiiiiiive! But it's so early_,_ what do you want_?" came the answer.

The Master Chief felt a series of explosions rock the ship and knew it was starting to come apart at the seams. He looked forward to the moment when he'd be free of it.

"_The Pillar of Autumn's engines are going critical_,_ Foehammer_," Cortana continued. "_Request immediate extraction on the double_!_ Be ready to pick us up at external junction four_-_C as soon as you get my signal_."

"_Cortana_,_ I'm soooooorry to break it to ya_,_ but we're aaaaaall just gettin' up_._ There's no waaaaaay I can pick you guuuuuuys up_._ Sorry_. _Gaaahhhdspeed_ _and Meeeeeerry Christmas_!"

The Master Chief winced at this. He wanted to ruin Christmas, but now, it was at the expense of his team's lives.

"……_Affirmative_. _Merry Christmas_,_ Marines_," Cortana said softly. "……There's nothing we can do about them……"

The elevator shook again. "The engines must have sustained more damage than I thought!" she advised.

Then, as the platform jerked to a halt, a piece of debris fell from somewhere above. The AI spoke to the Spartan.

"We have five minutes before the fusion drives detonate. We need to evacuate _now_! The explosion will generate temperatures of almost one hundred million degrees……_don't_ be here when it blows. There's a Longsword fighter still docked in launch bay seven. If we move _now_ we can make it!"

That sounded like excellent advice. The Master Chief ran through a hatch into a bay full of Warthogs, each stowed in its own individual slot. He chose one that was located near the entry, jumped in the driver's seat, and was relieved when the vehicle started up.

The countdown timer which Cortana had projected onto the outside surface of the HUD was not only running, but running _fast_, or so it seemed to the Chief as he hauled out of the bay, hooked a left to avoid a burning Warthog, and plowed through a mob of Covenant and Flood.

Cautious to not make a mistake and loose valuable time, he took his foot off the accelerator and paused at the top of the ramp. A large passageway stretched before him, with walkways on either side, a pedestrian bridge in the distance, and a narrow service tunnel directly ahead. _That's_ where he needed to go.

The ramp sloped down. The Spartan braked, and was glad he had when he heard a loud, rumbling _boom_!and pieces of jagged metal showered the surroundings. The Chief put the pedal to the metal as he sent the LRV up the opposite slope.

He emerged from the subsurface tunnel, and with a barrier ahead, he swung left and ran the length of the vertical wall. He saw a narrow ramp, accelerated up-slope, and jumped a pair of gaps that he never would have tackled had he been aware of them. He hit a level stretch, braked reflexively, and was thankful when the Warthog nose-dived off the end of the causeway and plunged into another service tunnel.

"Nice job on the last section," Cortana said admiringly. "How did you know about the dive off the end?"

"I didn't," the Master Chief said as the LRV lurched up out of the tunnel and nosed into another.

"Oh."

The next passageway was clear, until it dropped them into a hell of flying shrapnel, homicidal Flood soldiers, and laser happy Sentinels, all of which didn't want to see him out alive. He spotted an elevated ramp to his left and steered in that direction.

The Spartan fought with the controls as one tire rode up on the metal curb and threatened to send him over into the chaos below. It was difficult, but he managed to escape the gouts of fire as he came down off the ramp, hooked left, and found himself in a huge tunnel with massive support pillars that looked _really_ fun to steer around. Weaving back and forth through pillars, mowing over Covenant and Flood alike, he made it through the tunnel and for another ramp down the left side of the passageway.

The Master Chief took a second to remember Foehammer's hindering but cheerful voice as he thought about the day she lost the bet and had to sing every other word until they made it back to Earth.

More huge pillars marked the center of the passageway as he steered the LRV and a series of concave gratings caused it to wallow a bit before moving in to smooth pavement. He hit the accelerator as more explosions rocked the house The Master Chief pushed the Warthog up a ramp, felt the LRV drop a few levels, hit hard, slew sideways, and come to a stop.

The Spartan wrestled with the wheel, brought the front end around, and glanced at the timer. It read : 01:10:20. He stamped on the accelerator. The Warthog shot ahead, raced along a narrow tunnel, and slowed as he spotted an array of horizontally striped barrels that blocked the road ahead. Not only that—the whole area was swarming with Covenant and Flood soldiers. The Master Chief leapt out and hit the ground running, swiping an Elite in the head who had the misfortune to get in his way.

The fighter was straight ahead, ramp down, waiting for him to come aboard. Plasma bolts whizzed over his head, explosions rocked the remains of the ship, and then everything began to play out in slow motion. He raced to the ship, rifles slung over his shoulder as not to bother him. A squad of Flood Storm Troopers closed in on him, shouting in slow motion so their voices were deepened heavily. He had just entered the ship when everything went back to normal as his boots pounded on metal ramp. It came up just as the Storm Troopers lunged for the opening. The Longsword shook as another explosion came. The Spartan staggered into the pilot's seat, brought the engines online, and took the controls.

"We're cutting it close!" Cortana said, sounding nervous.

"Here we go."

The Chief made use of the ship's belly jets to push the Longsword up off the dock. He turned the fighter counter-clockwise, and hit the throttles. Gee forces pushed him back into the seat as the spacecraft exploded out of its bay and blasted up through the atmosphere.

Still spinning, but unable to withstand the forces exerted on this new weak point, the ring structure slowly tore itself apart. Huge chunks of debris tumbled end over end out into space, as a five-hundred- kilometer-long section of the ring world's hull sliced through an even longer curve of brilliantly engineered metal, earth, and water and produced a cascade of eerily silent explosions.

There was an insistent beeping noise as the words ENGINE TEMP CRITICAL, HOE flashed on the control panel.

"Shut then down, we'll need them later," Cortana said.

The Master Chief flicked some switches above his head.

"Fancy a look?" Cortana asked lightly.

He rose slowly from his seat and arrived in front of the view port in time to see the last pieces of Halo's hull sheared in half by the dreadful slow-motion polka of flying metal.

"Did anyone else make it?" the Master Chief inquired, although he already knew the answer.

"Scanning," Cortana said. She paused. A moment later she spoke again, her voice dangerously quiet. "Just dust and echoes. _We're_ all that's left."

The Spartan winced. Somewhere on the inside, in someplace deep, he died a little bit.

"But—we did what he _had_ to do, for Earth. An entire Covenant armada _obliterated._ _And_ _the Flood_—we had no choice. Halo……it's finished."

"No," the Chief replied, settling behind the controls. "I think this is just the beginning," he said as he removed his helmet and then you proceed to not see his face.

Riley 'Bodensee, Zuka 'Zamamee, Marshall "Canundrum" 'Nordsee, Juliano, Peter, Hanjk, and James Johnson Gurru watched from the safety of the dropship as the former holy relic was broken into pieces. After a moment of complete silence, the whole dropship cheered with utter joy. They had made it out _alive_! Although Riley hadn't saved Christmas, he managed to save his friends and himself. Riley was busy hugging Zuka, "Canundrum", and Juliano as Hanjk and Peter actually embraced one another with pure happiness. James grabbed all of them at the same time and issued a severe group hug.

"Ow, c'mon! Stop yelling," Zuka said, messaging his temples again.

"Da-yum straight, hos! Ain't no human punk-ass go'n fuck us up!" James holla'd.

Juliano just yelled like that amazing woman in the beginning of "Soul Train". I'm sorry……"Sooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooul Train!"

Amidst all the celebrating and love, Riley took a second to stare out the view port again. His smile gently faded. Everyone stopped partying and took notice of Riley.

"Hey, what's wrong? _We're alive_! We almost saved the day!" 'Zamamee said as he put an arm around his friend.

"……_We're_ alive……but what about our armada? Our friends and fellow soldiers on the ring? _The Rice Cakes and Jesus Shoes_?" Riley asked sadly. Everyone had completely forgotten about the others. The dropship fell silent once more……

Another Longsword drifted through space. All of the seven soldiers on board watched the catastrophe as their home was blown to shards. The Flood soldiers and Captain removed their hats. Big Pat sobbed loudly as he and Stanley embraced one another.

"Well……that's that," Stanley said.

"The only home we've ever known," a soldier added. Everyone looked to the ground. The Captain looked up suddenly, very determined. He raised his left arm.

"Sieg Heil!" he yelled one last time. The other soldiers followed suite, even Stanley and Big Pat.

"At least we're free from oppression. Free from cheating, lying tyrants," Captain Anderson said.

"Where are we gonna go now, Stanley?" Big Pat asked.

"……I have no idea, big guy," Stanley said, focused on the floating debris that riddled space.


End file.
